LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






'•"iWUJ-rtiiiiii 



MEMOIR 



REV. THOMAS BALDWIN, D. D. 



LATE PASTOR OF THE 



SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH IN BOSTON, 



WHO DIED 

AT WATERVILLE, Me. AUGUST 29; 1825. 

TOGETHER WITH 

A FUiVERAL SERMOJV5 

OCCAiTONED BY HIS DEATH, 

■M^L.VERED ON THE SUCCEEDING SABBATH, 

r , THE BAPTIST MEETING HOUSE, IN HALLOWELT;, Me. 



BY REV. DANIEL CHESSMAN, A. M. 

Pastor of that Church and Society. 



WITH AN APPENDIX, 

CONTAINING LETTERS AND HYMNS. 



BOSTON : 

FRINTBD BY- TRUB & GREEKB. 

1826. 






r4 



V 






DISTRICT OF Mx\SSACHUSETTS, TO WIT: 

District ClerWs Office. 
SEAL, ^^ ^'^ REMEMBERED, that on the eighteenth day of May, A. D. 1826, in the 
fiftieth year of the Independence of the United States of America, True and 
Greene of the said District, have deposited in this Office the Title of a Book, the Right 
%vhereof they claim hs Proprietors, in the words following, to wit : 

" Memoir of Rev. Thomas Baldwin, D. D. late Pastor of the Second Baptist Church in Bos- 
ton, who died at Waterville,'' Me. August 29, 1825, Together with a Funeral Sermon, oc- 
casioned hy his death, delivered on the succeeding Sabbath, in the Bapt' Meeting House, 
in Hallowell, Me. by the Rev. Daniel Chessman, A. M. Pastor of that Church and Society. 
With an Appendix, coniaining Letters and Hymns." 

In conformity to the Act of the Congress ot the United States, entitled " An Act for the 
Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies, of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Au- 
thors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the times,, therein mentioned :" and alsD to ati 
Act entitled " An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled^n Act for the Encouragement of 
Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books to, the Authors and Propvietots 
of Buch Copies during the times therein mentioned ; and extendiri^-the benefits thereof fotKe' 
Arts of Designing, Engraving and Etching Historical and other Prints." 

JOHN W. DAVIS, 
Clerk of the District of Massachuseftf. 



Jttrtnotr.* 



Rarely has been our duty to, record the personal history 
of a man so extensively known, so universally respected, or 
so tenderly beloved. Rarely does it fall to the lot of an in- 
dividual to fill so many and so important stations in the re- 
ligious world, and to fill them all so meekly and yet so ably. 
A name so unsulhed has not often been written on the 
tomb, nor has a patriarch often been gathered to his fathers 
amid so wide spread a burst of fihal lamentation. Under 
such c rcumstances, we are well aware how difficult is the 
task vhich our situation at present imposes upon us. Well 
nt we shrink from it, were it not our duty. We know 
how extensive was the circle of friends to whom the subject 
of our Memoir was known, how deep and how affectionate 
v^ris the interest which he never failed to awaken in those 
who approached him, and that every one will expect us to 
give the picture, the hving, breathing loveliness of the orig- 
inal ; and we well know that to do this will be impossible. 
There was in Dr. Baldwin's countenance a peculiar charm 
of expression, which no painter ever succeeded in transfer- 
ing to the canvas. And there was in his mind a striking 
combination of varied excellence, which every one has felt, 

*The substance of this Memoir was originally published in the American 
Baptist Magazine, for January and February 182C. The additions mad« 
are from the diary of Dr. Baldwin. 



but which we despair of being able to recal to definite or 
even to vivid recollection. We shall only therefore humbly 
attempt to lay before our readers what we have been able to 
collect of his history and what we have observed of his char- 
acter, sincerely regretting that the task had not fallen into 
abler hands. 

Tlie Rev. Thomas Baldwin was born in Bozrah, Con- 
necticut, Dec. 23, 1753, and was the only son of Thomas 
and Mary Baldwin, both natives of the same place. Of 
the early history of his family, but little is known. It may, 
however, be observed, that his father, w^as attached to the 
military service, and rose to distinction in the then Colonial 
army. He died whilst his son was a youth. 

The family of his mother was remarkable for talent. She 
was a woman of eminent piety ; and it is to her early instruc- 
tions that the church of Christ is indebted for much of the 
usefulness of that son, whom from a child she brov f^ht up 
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. 

It cannot be expected that much should be recollecredof 
the early history of a man, who has outlived so many of the 
companions of his childhood. So far as any thing, howeverj 
can be known, the traits of character for which he was in 
manhood remarkable were very early developed. From 
very infancy, his temper was noticed for its unruffled seren- 
ity. His mother used to observe, that never did she but in 
one single instance know him to betray any signs of impa- 
tience ; and when on this occasion she expressed her sur- 
prise, he instantly replied, " Mother, I am not angry." 

Another trait for which his childhood was distinguished 
was love of justice. Even in his boyish sports, he was al- 
ways the enemy of oppression, controUing the strong and 
supporting the weak. And yet this sway was exercised so 
mildly, that among the playmates of his infancy he obtained 
the blessing of a peace maker. 



He very early discovered a taste for reading. Not only 
did he devote every leisure moment to the improvement of 
his mind, but also consecrated to this object the hours of la- 
bour. Whenever his employments were of such a nature 
that one of his hands was disengaged, it was occupied with 
a book. By these habits of incessant application, he very 
early acquired a stock of valuable though miscellaneous in- 
formation, which, combined with strong powers of original 
thinking, seemed in youth to mark him out for unusual em- 
inence. 

At this time the advantages of education were much less 
extensively enjoyed in New-England than at present. 
Schools were more rare, and the mode of instruction palpa- 
bly defective. As a proof of this, it need only be remarked, 
that when Dr. Baldwin removed to Canaan, N. H. where 
he afterwards resided, he was generally selected on the 
Sabbath to read a sermon to the people who assembled for 
pubHc worship, because he was the only young man in the 
town who was sufficiently educated to perform this service 
acceptably. The mention of this fact is sufficient to show 
liow strong must have been his early bias towards intellec- 
tual improvement. 

It will tend to show how soon the most striking traits of 
his character, were exhibited, if we add, that those who 
knew Dr. Baldwin in youth have remarked, that he was 
then pecuUarly noticed for the sprightliness of his wit. 
Though always innocent and always unoffending, it w^as fre- 
quently pungent and always in point. Those who were in 
the habits of familiar intercourse with him, will well remem- 
ber that rich vein of most playful good humour, which was 
at times discoverable until his latest day. 

When Dr. Baldwin was about 16 years of age, his moth- 
er, who was now a second time married to a very worthy 
and pious man by the name of Eames, removed to Canaan, 



6 

New-Hampshire. He removed with the family ; and this 
became for several years the place of his residence. 

At the age of 22, on the 22d of September, 1775, he was 
married to Miss Ruth Huntington, of Norwich, Conn, with 
whom he was happily united until her death, Feb. IJ, 1812. 
They had six children. One only now survives to mourn the 
loss of a tender and affectionate father. Two sons died 
in infancy, and an amiable daughter at the age of sixteen. 
A son at the age of twenty one, and his youngest daughter 
at the age of twenty eight. 

The town of Canaan was rapidly peopled by emigrants 
from Connecticut and Massachusetts. Before he was 30, Dr. 
Baldwin was elected to represent it in the General Court. 
Of his reputation as a legislator we have no certain informa- 
tion. It is evident, however, that his success was such as to 
gratify his constituents ; for they repeatedly re-elected him. 
If we mistake not, they did not cease to choose him, until, 
feeling the importance of his ministerial labours, he had de- 
cidedly expressed his determination to serve as a legiJator 
no longer. 

We are happy to have arrived at a period in this Memoii* 
at which we are enable to refer to a manuscript written by 
Dr. Baldwin himself, during the few last years of his life. 
It commences with the relation of the events connected with 
his rehgious experience, and abruptly terminates with the 
time of his arrival in Boston. As it is numbered " Memoir 
No. 2," it is probable that either the former part was written 
and has been irrecoverably lost, or else that the author com- 
menced with that part which most deeply interested him, 
with the intention of completing the beginning at some other 
period. This narrative comprises about ten years of his 
life ; and as it has been very kindly placed in our hands by 
his afflicted widow, we shall make no apology for introduc- 
ing it at once to our readers. We do this with the greater 



pleasure, not only because, in a very simple dress, it pre- 
sents some of the most interesting events in the religious his- 
tory of its much beloved author, but also because it gives us 
an unusually vivid idea of the manners and customs of that 
part of New-England at the time of our revolutionary con- 
test. The autograph Memoir commences as follows : — 

"In the year 1780, I have reason to hope I was brought 
to the saving knowledge of the truth. The methods by 
which this change was effected I will endeavour to state 
with as much particularity as may be necessary in this place. 

" Before I proceed, I would, however, just remark, that I 
have no reason to believe that I had ever been the subject 
of such religious impressions as many others have during my 
early years. I had indeed a general conviction of the reali- 
ty of revealed religion, and that I had no lot nor part in it. 
When, however, my conscience accused me of Hving with- 
out God and without hope in the world, I was usually able to 
pacify it by promises of future amendment, or by recurring 
to the plea of inability. Often when I had spent an eve- 
ning until a late hour in mirth and dancing, when I came to 
la} my head upon my pillow, the thought of sudden death 
\T jidd Intrude into my mind. Such questions as these would 
«5ftca force themselves upon me : " What if you should die 
before morning .'"' " Whatif the judgment day should come .?" 
The answer was, " I am unprepared for either." These 
thoughts at times caused me to weep freely. But perhaps 
when the morning returned, all was forgotten. Although I 
resolved at some future time to be rehgious, (for I supposed 
I could be religious at any time) yet I never fixed that time 
as near at hand. There always appeared some peculiar ob- 
stacles in the way, and some sinful propensities to be indulg- 
ed, before I could think of being rehgious. Thus I lived 
from year to year, in a state of awful security and forgetful- 
ness of God. 



8 

" My conscience frequently accused me of the sinfulness 
of my heart and conduct ; but such were the charms of 
pleasure, that I could not persuade myself to give them up^ 
Yet while in this vain pursuit after the pleasures of the world, 
I was often forced to serious reflection. At times, I appear- 
ed to myself to be awfully hardened, and have thought, 
when walking or riding alone on a dark evening, that I real- 
ly wished a light from heaven to shine around me as it did 
around Saul, when on his way to Damascus. At other 
times, I had such a sense of my miserable condition, that I 
thought I should be willing to suffer a severe fit of sickness, 
if it might be the means of bringing me to God. These 
feehngs were, however, only transient, and the moment they 
subsided, the same rage for vanity would return. 

" One reason which induced me to be willing to suffer 
sickness or some other calamity from the hand of God, was, 
a foolish dread of what the world would say of me. " How," 
said I to myself, " should I become rehgious, could I hold 
up my head before any of my young companions, who might 
inquire what was the occasion of my being so dull." I 
thought I could never have fortitude enough to tell them I 
was concerned about my precious soul. What a pitiful ex- 
cuse for living in sin !" 

Here we trust we shall be excused for interrupting for a 
moment the course of this interesting narrative, to remark 
how simple and affecting a discovery is here made of the 
human heart, and its total ahenation from God. We see 
how a man can be perfectly convinced of the reality of rehg- 
ion, of his obligations to God, and of the consequences of 
disobedience, and yet hve in wilful neglect of every duty .; 
pursuing the course which he knows the Eternal God has 
forbidden, because if he did otherwise men might laugh at 
him. Well did the Saviour say of such men, " I know you 
that ye have not the love of God in you ;" and aptly did he 



9 

allude to one great cause of their disobedience, in that ques- 
tion, " How can ye believe, who receive honour one of an- 
other ?" And we would ask, Do not the preceding para- 
graphs delineate very exactly the moral condition of many 
of our readers, and of a very large portion of those who, with 
very respectful attention, hear the gospel every Sabbath day ? 
But to resume the narrative : — 

" In the month of November, 1777, God in his holy prov- 
idence was pleased to take from me my first-born by death ; 
a dear little son between six and seven months old. This 
painful event was rendered more distressing, both to me and 
my dear companion, by the circumstance of my being absent 
at the time. I had left my family eight or ten days before, 
all in usual health ; and when having accomplished my busi- 
ness, and returning home, was met by a friend, who inform- 
ed me that my child was dead and buried. 

" As oppressed with grief I rode silently homeward, the 
thought struck me, — " This is the voice of God to call me 
to repentanceT, * What excuse can I now have? Under the 
appeKrau^ of mourning for my child, I may become reli- 
gions, and no one will know it. Accordingly I set myself 
aoour it, and for the first time, attempted to pray in my fam- 
ly. I felt very solemn, and thought I was very sincere. I 
concluded I should never yield m}^ heart to vanity as I had 
done before- My devotion was continued morning and eve- 
ning ; and I believe for the space of two or three weeks, I 
was never seen to smile. I remember that once I felt much 
remorse, after having, in an unguarded moment, been sur- 
prised into laughter. At the same time indulging serious 
reflections, I was not unfrequently much affected. But, 
alas ! it was only the sorrow of tJie world. The impression 
aiade upon my mind by the death of a darling babe, began 
gradually to wear away. In a httle time my seriousness 
was gone, and I returned to my wonted cheerfulness and 
gaiety. 2 



10 

^* All tliat now remained of my seriousness that had the 
appearance of religion was, a mere lifeless formality in 
prayer. I look back with shame and remorse to this peri- 
od of my life, when, notwithstanding my constant but un- 
meaning prayers, I lived in the eager pursuit of the vanities 
of the world, only perhaps with a little more concealment 
than 1 had formerly done. I had early imbibed a thirst for 
honour. I knew this could not be gratified without pre- 
serving a fair reputation. But such v/as my love of gay 
company, mirth and dancing, that I went as far as my re- 
spect for character would at all permit. I tremble to think 
of the temptations and snares which then beset my path. 
But for the restraining power of a merciful God, I had cer- 
tainly been ruined. 

"In the summer of 1780, my mind became at times very 
uneasy. I had serious thoughts about religion, yet did not 
feel determined to set about it in earnest. 1 had^ a decided 
conviction that there must be a change of heart, or all the 
outward forms of religion would be unavailing. I would of- 
ten ask myself, what is meant by being born agpin P cl re- 
member once having attempted to take refuge in this, it is 
said. Whosoever beheveth that Jesus is the Christ is bor« 
of God. I believe that Jesus is the Christ ; am I not there- 
fore born of God ? But I perceived that my belief had no 
effect either upon my heart or hfe. [ was also fully aware 
that Christians possessed something of which I was desti- 
tute. They told of joys and sorrows which I had never felt. 

" In the month of September, God, in his holy provi- 
dence, sent two Baptist preachers into the town. They 
preached several lectures, and spent one Lord's day in the 
neighbourhood. Seyeral persons appeared greatly alarmed 
by their preaching. I thought they were good men, but too 
illiterate to edify me. I, however, felt very solemnly under 
their preaching, and perceived that others felt yet more 



11 

than myself. Some professors of religion were very much 
aroused, and several young persons were very deeply im- 
pressed.*' 

Dr. Baldwin proceeds to mention the increased solemnity 
which rested upon his mind whilst attending several reli- 
gious meetings, which were held about this time in the 
neighbourhood. The narrative then continues : " In the 
evening there was to be a conference at a private houso. 
I attended. The meeting was opened by prayer; after 
which two persons came forward and told what God had 
done for their souls. One of them, a sensible and well 
informed man, gave a very striking account of his conver- 
sion to God. Almost the whole assembly was in tears. I 
felt very tenderly, but in a great measure refrained from 
w^eeping. Soon, however, after this a moving scene com- 
menced. A very pious man came, and falling down on his 
knees before me, addressed me as follows — " Neighbour 
Baldwin, can you forgive me, can you forgive me, that I 
have lived so little like a Christian, and that I have set no 
better an example before you !" I trembled hke Felix, and 
replied, " 1 have nothing against you more than I have 
agi\inst my own soul." He followed these remarks with 
the most solemn entreaties and feeling exhortations to turn 
unto God and live. Although in my proud heart 1 had re- 
solved never to shed a tear in public, all my resolutions 
were utterly unavailing. In spite of every effort, 1 trembled 
and wept, and changed my seat to avoid observation. My 
extreme agitation, however, soon discovered itself. Several 
persons spoke to me ; many rejoiced and many were af- 
fected at seeing that my mind was impressed. When asked 
to state my feelings, 1 could only say with Agur, " I am 
more brutish than any man, and have not the understanding 
of a man. 1 thought I earnestly desired conversion ; but 
how to attain it, how to obtain an interest in Christ, I did 



12 

not know. I at first apprehended I should, in some way, 
have a discovery of Christ on the cross, and that this would 
give me comfort. Again 1 thought I was now so distressed, 
that God would soon give me relief. I cried ; but, alas ; 
all seemed in vain. 

" Although 1 had continued my cold, pharisaical prayers 
from the time before mentioned, yet till this night I had 
never conversed with my family on the subject of personal 
religion. But now I entered with seriousness into the sub- 
ject ; and after disclosing my feelings, expressed my reso- 
lution, that let others do what they would, I was determined 
to seek the Lord. I found much tenderness in attempting 
to pray before retiring to rest. I had some concern lest 
these impressions should leave me, and my mind become yet 
more hardened than before. I awoke before the day dawn- 
ed, and found my mind still deeply impressed. I cannot 
say as many have, that I strove to shake off my convictions ; 
on the contrary, ray great anxiety was to increase them ; for 
this was the way in which I was looking for deliverance. 
My distress continuing day and night, I began to hope that 
God had begun the work, and that he would carry it on. 
At times I experienced great tenderness, and often both in 
public and private v/ept bitterly. 

I was satisfied that my prayers were exceedingly de- 
fective. They appeared so sinful, that I thought God 
would not regard them. But as Christians appeared to 
be in earnest for me, at times I was encouraged to believe 
that God would hear them in my behalf. Although I was 
not called by name, yet I thought I knew when they pre- 
sented my case before the Lord.^' At one of these sea- 

* In this supposition it is probabls that the author was not mistaken. 
An aged minister by whom Dr. Baldwin was baptized, once mentioned 
that several Christians in the neighbourhood, observing his promising 
talents and amiable disposition, had agreed together to make his conver- 



13 

sons of prayer, it seemed to me that my case was wholly 
neglected. I was ready lo say with David, " Refuge faileth 
me, and no man careth for my soul." 1 concluded that if 
the saints were not permitted to pray for me, my case was 
desperate. Despondency seized me, and I began to fear 
that all was over witli my soul. Yet at times I could not 
but hope, that God would, at some time or other, bring me 
out of this distress, and that I should yet praise him. 

" My distress did not arise so much from the fear of pun- 
ishment, as from a sense of having abused divine goodness 
and mercy. All my hopes from any thing in myself seemed 
to vanish. I had been accustomed to think that I was not 
so great a sinner as some others, because 1 had been addict- 
ed to no degrading vice. But 1 now saw that my morahty, 
fair as it had appeared, was most wretchedly defective ; and 
that my prayers had been no better than solemn mockery. 
I greatly feared that my repentance was not genuine ; that 
it would ultimately prove no more than the workings of a 
natural heart writhing under the lashings of conscience. 
Often would I say, what shall I do to be saved ? How can 
I come to Christ ? O that some man would guide me ! 
Thus I went mourning from day to day as without the light 
of the sun. The world had lost its charms. The pleasures 
that had heretofore appeared so fascinating, now seemed 
so extremely insipid, that I wondered I could ever have 
thought so highly of them. They not only appeared empty 
and trifling, but to a great degree disgusting. 

" After spending an anxious and almost sleepless night, 
I arose just after the dawning of the day, and resolved once 
more to pray. 1 said wiih Jonah, " I will lopk again to- 
wards his holy temple." I knelt down, and in a few broken 

sion a special subject of prayer. This agreement was formed while he was 
yet thoughtless, and we may well suppose that their desires were strength- 
ened when they saw so pleasing a hope of their fulfilment. 



14 



sentences, tried to send my cries to the mercy seat. I felt 
convinced tliatlhad done nothing to merit the divine. favour, 
nor could I do any thing though I were eternally to perish. 
This I thought I confessed to the Lord ; and as my last re- 
fuge, endeavoured to cast myself upon the mercy of God. 
During this day 1 felt less anxiety than 1 had done lor many 
days before. Sometimes I hoped 1 had given myself to 
God, and sometimes I feared that my convictions were 
wearing off, and that 1 should return again unto folly. 

" Just in the twihght of the same day, I had occasion to 
walk to a neighbour's house, about a quarter of a mile dis- 
tant. As I walked, a new train of thought occupied my 
mind. How happy, thought I, are the angels ! They are 
happy, because they are holy, and have never sinned. How 
unhappy I am on account of sin ! My ' thoughts now ran 
back to Adam in the garden. I thought I would have given 
the world had it been at my command, if he had never 
sinned ; then I should not have been a sinner. But nov/ 
1 felt myself a dreadful sinner, and could see no way by 
which I could be made holy. At the same time I was con- 
vinced, that unless I were made holy I could never be made 
happy. It appeared that I had a great something to do ; 
what it was or how to do it I knew not. Immediately as I 
walked, this passage of scripture came powerfully into my 
mind, — " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 
sin of the world." A gleam of hope seemed to com.e from 
these words. But I thought they were only words which I 
had read, and were now suggested by my imagination. 
They seemed to be repeated the second time, — '* Behold 
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." 
The effect was overwhelming. In an instant, the great plan 
of mercy through the atonement of Christ was astonishingly 
opened to my view. He appeared to be just such a Saviour 
as I needed. I saw that by his atonement he had (so far 



15 

us an atonement could do it) *' take.n aivay the sin of the 
world." What, said I to myself, is it only, to believe in 
Jesus Christ in order to be saved ? It appeared almost too 
free and loo glorious. It seemed impossible that it should 
be true. But the more I reflected, the more clear it ap- 
peared that this was the gospel method of salvation. I 
could not help taking hold of it, and thought I saw in it a 
glorious consistency with the attributes of God. 

" My mind now became calm, but not transported. It 
occurred to me that this was not such a conversion as I had 
been looking for. I had expected my distress to be in- 
creased until I should see myself hanging, as it were, over 
everlasting burnings, and that then I should have some dis- 
covery of the Saviour ; but in what .way I knew not. 
Those sweet words would still recur to my mind, — " Be- 
hold the Lamb of Go.d, which taketh away the sin of the 
world." The gracious invitations of the gospel, such as 
Isaiah Iv. 1. "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
the waters ; and he that hath no money, come ; yea, come, 
buy wine and milk, without money and without price," ap- 
peared exceedingly precious. The more I reflected, the 
more was I lost in wonder and astonishment in contem- 
plating the riches of grace. The Saviour now began to ap- 
pear precious to me. Yet I was exceedingly afraid that I 
should be deceived. 

" A short time afterwards, being asked at a conference 
meeting to relate my religious feehngs, I comphed ; and 
though honestly, yet with much fear and trembling, I pro- 
ceeded to state what I had experienced. Christians re- 
joiced, and anxious sinners wept. I was called upon in 
the course of the evening to pray. I attempted, and was 
blessed with some degree of freedom. Seeing some per- 
sons who had been for some time anxious, I could not re- 
frain from addressing them. They were asking, " What 



16 

shall we do to be saved f " I replied, *' Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved." I then thought 
I could tell them so that they would believe. But after 
stating to them my views of that wonderful declarationj — 
" Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
the world," I could not perceive that they were affected by 
it. It seemed to me that every one now could believe, and 
I w^ondered that I had never believed before. I seldom 
afterwards attended meeting without taking some part in the 
public exercises, until I was solemnly set apart to the work 
of the ministry. 

" It may be proper here to observe, that previous to my 
religious concern, I had, with the advice of several friends, 
determined to enter upon the study of the law. Two gen- 
tlemen, one of whom had been States' Attorney in Connec- 
ticut, the other a practitioner in law, kindly engaged me 
their assistance, and furnished me with books.' I had alrea- 
dy read a number, and was reading Blackstone's Commen- 
taries v\^hen my attention was arrested. I was obliged to 
lay them aside, but writh the expectation of resuming them 
after my impressions had subsided, I made several at- 
tempts to resume them, but now found it utterly in vain. 
My attention was wholly engrossed with another subject, 
although I do not recollect that I thought of preaching. 
I have since, however, had reason to believe that the im- 
pression was very general upon the minds of the people, 
that I should at some time or other become a minister of 
the gospel. As there was no settled minister in the town at 
this time, I was constantly called upon to take some part in 
all the religious meetings. I however felt a great diffidence 
in speaking, unless when requested by some of the older 
brethren. 

" Not long after I had obtained a hope of an interest in 
Christ, when meditating on the character of the Saviour. 



17 

these words were impressed very forcibly on my mind, 
" These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he 
goeth." I was struck with the thought, and wished that I 
might be one of them, for they seemed to me to be pecu- 
liarly blessed. But the question immediately occurred, 
*' Where has the Saviour gone as an example for his peo- 
ple to follow ?" I was first led to view him coming from 
Galilee to Jordan, to be baptized of John in Jordan. 1 at 
once said to myself, 1 cannot follow him in this, nor am I 
required to. I have been already devoted to God in infan- 
cy ; therefore this part of Christ's example can have no 
claim upon my obedience. Still the words followed me, — 
" These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he 
goeth." I at length resolved prayerfully to search the New 
Testament, with, I trust, a heart breathing the language of 
the Apostle, " Lord, what will thou have me to do f" 

" I had been educated in the principles, and what 1 now 
consider the prejudices of the Congregationalists. I had 
read httle on the baptismal controversy, except " Dicken- 
son's Divine Right of Infant Baptism." This work had 
been reprinted with a preface by eight Congregational min- 
isters of the then town of Norwich, one of whom was my 
great uncle, under whose instructions I had been brought up. 
I thought very highly of the work, and had read it with 
much attention more than once, in order to furnish myself 
with arguments in favour of infant baptism. These argu- 
ments had satisfied my mind until now, when I read the 
Scriptures with different feelings. I wished to be candid, 
and to receive the truth wherever I might find it. But after 
all, when I perceived that the evidence appeared against my 
former sentiments, and in favour of the baptism of believing 
aduhs only, it required an amazing struggle to surrender the 
point. I concealed my conflicts from all my Baptist friends, 
but unbosomed myself freely to several Pedobaptist minis- 

3 



18 



lers, hoping that they might be able to remove my difficul- 
ties. But all of them proved physicians of no value. I had 
fully resolved to follow the truth wheresoever I might find 
it. 1 well knew, moreover, that all my earthly connexions 
were decided Pedobaptists. I endeavoured to count the 
cost, and though I should forfeit their friendship, felt deter- 
mined to follow the dictates of my own conscience. 

" During my unsettled state of mind, a respectable Con- 
gregational minister visited and lodged at my house. In the 
course of the evening, he introduced the subject of his visit, 
which was, he said, to invite me to offer myself a candidate 
for examination before the Association to which he belonged, 
with a view to my being licensed to preach the gospel in 
their fellowship. But being so far convinced of the correct- 
ness of the distinguishing sentiments of the Baptists, I thought 
it improper to take any step until my mind should be deci- 
ded. I thanked him for his friendly invitation ; but frankly 
^old him the state of my mind. I requested him, if ho 
thought I was in danger of embracing an error, to endeavor 
to reclaim me. With this view, I requested him to tell me 
where to find a warrant for infant baptism. He immediate- 
ly referred to Genesis xvii. and went at large into the ordin- 
ary argument founded upon the Abrahamic covenant. After 
conversing till a late hour, I informed him that I had hoped 
he would have convinced me that infant baptism was right : 
but was sorry to say, that he had entirely failed. My con- 
science still preponderated towards the opinions of the Bap- 
tists. " Sir," said I, " in this case, what shall I do ?" 
^e Why," said he, " if we cannot agree to think alike we must 
agree to differ." We united in prayer, and retired to rest. 

" Previously to my baptism, I visited my friends at Nor- 
wich, Con. I then took an opportunity of conversing with my 
former venerable pastor. He received me very kindly ; 
and when at his request I related my religious exercises, was 



19 

quite melted into tears. But, towards the close of the eve- 
ning, he suspected from some of my inquiries, that my mind 
was not established in the doctrines of Pedobaptism, he re- 
marked to me, in rather a stern tone of voice, " Well Thom- 
as, if you renounce your infant baptism and are re-baptized, 
I shall reprobate you, notwithstanding all that yo^i have told 
me."* I was much shocked at the remark, and after a mo- 
ment's silence, replied, " I hope, Sir, I shall be directed to 
do what is right." Thus we parted, perhaps with mutual 
dissatisfaction. 

" He put into my hand at parting, " Wall's Abridgment of 
his History of Infant Baptism." But all the help 1 derived 
from this was, to be confirmed in what I had before feared 
was true. Dr. Wall unhesitatingly acknowledges that the 
primitive mode of baptism was immersion, and blames the 
Presbyterians for changing it into sprinkling. Neither dur- 
ing my inquiries nor before them, had I ever seen a page 
written by the Baptists, except a small pamphlet written by 
S. Wilson, entitled " A Scripture Manual." This I had read 
many years before. I once told a Baptist minister that I 
wished to have some conversation with him respecting Bap- 
tism, as I had some doubts in my mind on that subject. He 
rephed, " Do you only read your Bible, and you will do 
well enough." I thought the advice correct, and determin- 
ed to follow it. And whether now right or wrong, I can on- 
ly say, that the Bible and my own conscience compelled me 
to be what I am. In the latter part of the summer of 1781, 
I was baptized by the Rev. Elisha Ransom, then of Wood- 
stock, Vt. This was a very trying, but on the whole a very 
joyful day to me. I had engaged Rev. Mr. Ransom to 

* It is pleasing to record, that the good old man did not execute his threat. 
After Dr. Baldwin had become a Baptist minister, his aged relative treated 
him with great kindness, invited him to preach in his pulpit, and indeed to 
the close of his life manifested towards him the most parental attention. 



20 

come to Canaan, preach a lecture, and administer the ordi- 
nance of baptism ; public notice of which had been given. 
But when the day arrived, my mind was exceedingly dark ; I 
thought that I should not be able to satisfy any one, that I had 
experienced a change of heart ; more especially the admin- 
istrator, as I knew that he was very critical in the examina- 
tion of candidates. But as I had opened my mouth to the 
the Lord, I dared not go back. During most of the 
public exercise, my mind remained still dark ; but the preach- 
er in addressing the audience, asked them this question : 
" Have you not love enough to follow your blessed Lord into 
his watery grave .''" This expression touched my heart, and 
in a moment I was bathed in tears ; and thought I could say : 
" Lord I will follow thee, whithersoever thou goest : through 
floods and flames, if thou wiliest me to go. As soon as the 
discourse was closed, I arose and with much feeling address- 
ed the people. The dark cloud which had hung over me, 
was now entirely dispersed. I enjoyed great freedom in 
relating my experience of God's dealings with my soul. Two 
others at the same time offered themselves for baptism, and 
were accepted. We all repaired to a pleasant river, to at- 
tend the solemn ordinance. The last assault of the adver- 
sary seemed to be aimed at my pride. It was suggested, 
that there was something extremely mean and degrading in 
this mode of baptism ; that all my associates would be pres- 
ent : and how should I appear in submitting to this humili- 
ating ordinance. But I trust, that I was enabled to fix my 
mind on the example of Christ, on his condescending love in 
attending to this sacred rite, and the fear of man was in a 
great degree overcome. There was a great concourse of peo- 
ple ; but I did not once recollect that any were present, 
whose feelings were different from my own, until the last 
candidate was led into the water. I was then led to ask 
myself, where is the cross which you had so much dreaded 



21 



on account of the sneers and reproachful remarks of the 
spectators ? I thought I could say that it was wholly remov- 
ed ; and hke the Ethiopian ennuch I went on my way re- 
joicing. 

'• From my constantly speaking in public, 1 began to fear 
being suspected of aspiring to become a preacher. This 
impression I studiously laboured to prevent. An ardent de- 
sire for the salvation of immortal souls on the one hand, and 
on the other, a consciousness of my want of those acquire- 
ments which I considered necessary to qualify me for the 
work, kept me for some time in a state of perplexity. 

" It may not be improper here to mention a remarkable 
season of prayer, which I once at this time enjoyed. [If 
these lines should ever meet the eye of any other person, I 
hope that what I am to relate will not be imputed to vanity 
or egotism. " Behold, before God I He not."] While the 
subject of preaching was yet undetermined in my mind, af- 
ter sermon one Lord's day, as was then customary, a brother 
present, who was far gone in consumption, addressed the 
people in a very affecting exhortation ; after which I w^as 
requested to pray. I engaged — but it is impossible for me 
to describe the scene which opened to my view. Soon after 
I began to speak, my soul appeared drawn out in an un- 
common degree towards God, and the ectasy of joy that I 
then felt was absolutely indescribable and full of glory. For 
a few moments, I apprehended I was about to quit the body. 
Words flowed as it were without an effort of thought. My 
language and conceptions appeared uncommonly elevated. 
When I had closed and opened my eyes, I perceived the as- 
sembly almost all in tears. One man cried out in anguish 
of soul, " I am undone /" Some others, who had remained 
in a hardened, stupid state until now, were trembling and 
weeping. These impressions with some, I have reason to 
hope, terminated in saving conversion to God. 



22 

" This gracious manifestation of divine mercy and good- 
ness to me was accompanied with a peculiar peace and calm- 
ness of mind. It was indeed that peace of God which pass- 
eth all understanding. It was a season never to be forgot- 
ten, whilst memory holds a place in my breast. It had, 
moreover, a considerable effect in reconciling me to devote 
myself to the work of the ministry. In the days of my vani- 
ty I had never looked forward to any appointment with such 
intense desire as I now waited the return of the holy Sab- 
bath, that I might meet with the children of God, and tell 
my fellow sinners the blessedness there is in believing. 

" The winter succeeding, we were favoured with a re- 
freshing season. Several were, as we hoped, brought home 
to God ; among them one, who has since become a minister 
of our denomination. The church continued united in love, 
and additions were made from time to time of such as we 
trust shall be saved. 

" Although I had generally conducted the rehgious ex- 
ercises in most of our public meetings, yet it was not until 
August of 1782, that I attempted to take a text and preach 
doctrinally and methodically. The news soon circulated 
widely, that 1 had begun to preach ; and the next Sabbath 
many collected from most of the neighbouring towns. Our 
assemblies were full and attentive, and the prospect highly 
encouraging, and thus in general it continued. 

" In the spring of 1783, the church invited me to re- 
ceive ordination. I consented to be ordained, but not as 
the pastor of that particular church. It was, however, un- 
derstood that I should perform the duties of a pastor so long 
as I should think it proper to stay with them. A meeting 
was then called, and the subject laid before the town. 
They unanimously voted to concur with the church, and 
presented a call on their part. Arrangements were accord- 
ingly made, and a council convened in Canaan, on the Uth 



23 

©f June, 17S3, ^t which time I was pubHcly ordained to the 
work of an evangehst. Rev. Samuel Shephard, of Brent- 
wood, N. H. preached on the occasion from 2 Cor. iv. 7. 
" But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the ex- 
cellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." 
Rev. Elisha Ransom, of Woodstock, Vt. gave the charge, 
and Rev. SaxMuel Ambrose, of Sutton, N. H. gave the 
right hand of fellowship. Some other ministering brethren 
also assisted on the occasion. 

" The second Lord's day after I was ordained, I was called 
to baptize a female friend. When we came up out of the 
water, Mrs. S. M. of Enfield, being present, said, ' See here 
is water, what doth hinder me that I may not be baptized ?' 
I replied, If thou believest with all thine heart, thou 
mayest." She immediately answered, ' I beheve that Jesus 
is the Christ, the son of God.' The members of the 
church being chiefly present, collected together, and she 
gave a satisfactory account of a work of grace upon her 
heart. And we went down both into the water, and I bap- 
tized her. As we ascended the bank of the river, a young 
man observed, that he could not go away without offering 
himself as a candidate for baptism. The church consented 
to hear the reason of his hope. His relation proving satis- 
factory, he also was baptised ; and as we were about to 
leave the water, another female offered herself, but her re- 
lation not being satisfactory, and she being a stranger, her 
baptism was deferred for a further opportunity. 

"The church enjoyed as gieat a degree of harmony as 
commonly falls to the lot of churches in the age in w^hich 
we live. Additions were from time to time made, until our 
number amounted to sevent} . A considerable portion of 
these were from the adjacent towns. 

" I continued my labours with this church seven years, 
during which time, though principally at home on the Sab- 
bath, I spent much of the intervening time in visiting and 



24 

preaching in the destitute parts of the surrounding country, 
There were few towns within the space of fifty miles round, 
in which I did not occasionally preach. 

" In this warfare, I went chiefly at my own charges. 
Some few churches, however, which I visited by appoint- 
ment of the association, made me some compensation, and 
some individuals made me small presents ; but I do not re- 
collect that during the whole of this period, in all my jour- 
neyings, I ever received a public contribution. I usually 
met with a kind reception from Christians of all denomina- 
tions ; and besides receiving their decided approbation, 
often, quite often, received the following benediction, with 
a hearty pressure of the hand at parting, — "Lord bless you, 
brother ; such men as you will never want," 

" My mode of travelling was on horseback. In pursuing 
my appointments, I had often to climb the ragged moun- 
tain and descend the deep ravine. These exchanges, from 
rocky steeps to dismal swamps, were far from unfrequent 
at that early period of the settlement of this part of our 
country. The roads are since so improved, that it would 
be difficult to persuade the traveller now-a-days that they 
had ever been as bad as the early settlers represent. 

" The people were not, however, so much wanting in 
kindness, as in the means of assisting a travelling minister. 
As for silver and gold, the greater part of them had none. 
The cause for this scarcity of money arose from the particu- 
lar circumstances of the times. At the close of the revo- 
lutionary war, the continental currency, which had before 
depreciated to almost nothing, ceased. The little silver 
that remained in the coffers of the rich, was with much re- 
luctance permitted to be drawn from its long sequestered 
concealment. It hence often happened, that the travelling 
preacher must either beg or go hungry, if he happened to 
travel where he -was not known. This, however, did not 
very freqnently fall to my lot. I am, however, w^ell aware. 



25 

that mankind in general are much more likely to remem- 
ber a single circumstance of affliction, though the suffering 
be ever so short, than man many mercies of long con- 
tinuance. 

" Some time in March, 1790, I was called to visit a re- 
mote part of New Hampshire, to assist in constituting a 
church, and settling a minister. The journey was about 
one hundred miles. I left home with only a few shillings, 
but unfortunately before night, the whole was lost. How- 
ever, as 1 had friends on the way to a considerable dis- 
tance, and MS I had an appointment to spend a Sabbath at 
Haverhill, Coos, forty miles on my way, I concluded to 
proceed. I preached twice on the Sabbath, to a large and 
respectable audience. In my present circumstances, I ex- 
pected some remuneration for my services ; but as 1 was 
decently dressed, they probably supposed that I needed 
nothing. I received the hearty thanks and good wishes of 
a number ; and with them, I pursued my journey. After 
travelling about fifteen miles, I came to the house of a min- 
istering brother, who was the last acquaintance which I had 
on the way, and who was to accompany me the remainder 
of the journey. I informed him of ray situation, and pro- 
posed to turn back ; to this he would not consent ; he said 
that himself and several other friends that were going, were 
all in the same situation, being destitute of money j but the 
company would be provided with stores sufficient, and that 
there were friends all the way, where we might call and 
refresh ourselves. The snow was more than three feet 
deep, and the travelling was consequently very difficult and 
tedious. Our way was chiefly through a wilderness, with a 
few log cottages to relieve the solitude of the gloomy forest. 
On our arrival at a small settlement on Connecticut river, 
a few miles below the upper Coos, the company dispersed 
among different famihes for lodgings. Two of us oros'^ed 
4 



26 

the river, and spent the night on the opposite side, in Ver- 
mont. We were received with much hospitaUty ; and the 
kindness of our host rendered his poor accommodations 
quite pleasant. The house was open, and the night cold, 
which obliged me to wrap myself up in my cloak, though 
seated before a large fire, to keep me from suffering with 
the cold. Our lodging was comfortable, though it was pro- 
bably at the expense of the accommodation of the family. 
The next morning we set out for Lancaster, upper Coos, 
where I had an appointment to preach at 10 o'clock. From 
this place we journeyed up Israel's river to a place called 
Dartmouth, near the foot of one of the White Mountains. 
Here 1 preached, and baptized five men. The day was 
extremely cold ; and my clothes were frozen almost as soon 
as I was out of the water. The next day a church was 
constituted, composed only of baptised believers. 

" The candidate for ordination was examined, but the 
council not being entirely satisfied, did not proceed to or- 
dain him. But as the people had assembled, it was thought 
proper that I should preach on the occasion ; especially as 
I was about to ^ leave the place. This was an interesting 
season, and many appeared to be deeply impressed. At 
the close of the meeting, I was much fatigued ; but, as I 
was refreshing myself at the table, the friends came around 
me to bid me farewell. Among them I observed a young 
person, who stood silently weeping at my side. I asked her 
what she wanted ; she replied, with a depressed tone of 
voice, ' an interest in Christ.' I directed her to the Lamb 
of God, that taketh away the sin of ,the world. At this 
time my heart was too full to remain any longer at the 
table ; I therefore arose exhorted and prayed with theflft, 
and took an affectionate leave of the people. Returning to 
Lancaster, I preached again that evening. Two of my 
ministering brethren tarried until the next week, and bap- 



27 

lised several persons, some of whom had been awakened^ 
and hopefully converted during our visit at that place. 

" The day following, I set out for Landaff in company with 
J. C. Esq. ; the distance was about thirty miles. It so hap- 
pened that neither of us had any money ; we consequently 
expected to ride the whole distance without refreshment. 
But as we were setting out, a gentleman belonging to the 
village proposed to bear us company. In the course of 
our ride, he said to me, * Sir, I was brought up an Episco- 
palian, and before the revolution was possessed of a con- 
siderable estate. But, unfortunately, both myself and my 
father's family adhered to the royal party ; consequently, 
my property was principally confiscated ; but I have a little 
left. jVIy brother is a clergyman in the estabhshment ; but 
I freely confess that I am inclining to the sentiments of the 
Universalists. Sir, I cannot dispute, but I will cheerfully 
hear any remarks which you may think proper to offer.' I 
was much pleased with the candour with which he stated 
his own views, and his wiUingness to listen to what might he 
advanced in favour of truth, 

" After riding a few miles, he observed, that it was time 
to stop and feed our horses 5 but knowing, that ray pecu- 
niary resources were low, I observed, that it was not ne- 
cessary. But he insisted upon it, and said, * My father, 
sir, taught me, that whenever 1 happened to travel in com- 
pany with clergymen, never to allow them to pay any 
thing, and I am resolved that they never shall. Now, sir, 
whatever you may need, while in my company, is entirely 
at your service.' I was led to admire the goodness of God 
in sending this kind stranger, who knew nothing of my situa- 
tion, to supply my wants while passing through this dreary 
wilderness. At night we were hospitably entertained at the 
house of Mr. C. 



28 

"As I had an appointment to spend the next Sabbath 
at Danville, I found myself under the necessity of going 
ten miles farther down the river, to find a place v^^here 1 
could cross. Mr. C. proposed to accompany me as far as 
Peacham. When we had arrived at the place where we 
must part, my generous friend requested me to stop a few 
minutes, as he had occasion to step out, and wished to see 
me again. He soon returned, but appeared disappointed. 
He said that he had been trying to get a guinea changed, 
having been informed of my little misfortune at the com- 
mencement of the journey, in order to give me something to 
help me on my way, but could not find money enough in 
the village to do it. ' I am concerned,' said he, * lest you 
should suffer for the want of a little money.' I thanked 
him for his kindness, and told him I had no doubt, that the 
Lord would provide. We parted, but not without some 
tender emotions. 

" We then crossed the river, and proceeded up the west 
side, and about noon, parted with J. C. Esq. and pursued 
my journey alone. Towards night it began to snow, and 
at dark I passed the last settlement in Peacham, and enter- 
ed into a wilderness, without a single house on the way. 
The prospect was dreary and appalling. Being an entire 
stranger, the night dark, and the road narrow, and inter- 
sected with limbs of trees, which obliged me to proceed 
slowly with my hand before my face, in order to preserve 
my eyes ;* imagination suggested the danger of being ar- 
rested by some of those ferocious animals, which were 
known to inhabit these forests. But that God, who had 
preserved my life thus far, conducted me safely through all 
the dangers, and brought me to the house of my friends, 
who received me with no small kindness. The pleasure of 

* One of our company had his eye much injured by the point of a limb, 
while riding in the evening. 



29 

meeting with them, made me forgetful of the dangers and 
trials of the way. I felt glad, and I hope, thankful, to thai 
Being from whom I had received all these favours. 

" The next day, being the Sabbath, 1 preached three 
times, and twice afterward. The people were wilHng to 
make me some compensation, but money was so exceeding- 
ly scarce, that they could only raise only two shilhngs and 
three pence. With this, and the kindness of the friends on 
the way, I arrived at home, after an absence of nearly four 
weeks." 

We have thus far followed the manuscript with scarcely 
any alteration or abridgment. On the interesting topics to 
which it refers, the conversion of its author, his change of 
sentiments on the subject of baptism, and his call to the 
Christian ministry, we felt it our duty to allow him to speak 
for himself. In doing this, we doubt not that we have per- 
formed a most grateful service to our readers. There is 
always a charm about a narrative, in which a man declares 
what he himself has seen and felt, which a narration written 
in the third person can never acquire. And besides this, 
there is in the Memoir above, so many traits of genuine 
Christian simplicity, so well executed a dehneation of the 
workings of the human heart in many of its most interest- 
ing attitudes, that it can scarcely be read without lively and 
peculiar interest. Instead, therefore, of apologizing for its 
length, we are persuaded that the wish will be general that 
it were longer. 

The remainder of the narrative is not, however, so well 
adapted for a memoir of this nature. It contains many in- 
cidents, interesting to the author and to his particular 
friends, but which might not so generally interest a miscel- 
laneous pubhc. We shall therefore leave the latter part of 
it, and only use it to supply us with such facts, and occa- 



30 

sionally with such reflections, as may throw light upon the 
character of its author. 

It will be readily perceived from what has been stated 
above, that the labours of Dr. Baldwin in Canaan must 
have been excessively severe. His reputation as a preach- 
er was such, that his assistance was very frequently re- 
quired at ordinations and councils in all the surrounding 
country ; and besides the destitute condition of many of the 
neighbouring settlements presented innumerable claims upon 
his Christian sympathies. To all these calls he unhesita- 
tingly yielded himself up. In the narrative before alluded 
to, after relating the events of one of these journeys of an 
hundred miles from home in the dead of winter, in which 
he had suffered much from cold, and something from hun- 
ger, and had been engaged in almost daily preaching, he 
concludes with the following reflections. We insert them 
as a happy illustration of the tone of his piety, and also of 
the honourable disinterestedness for which he was always 
distinguished. 

" During this tedious journey, I had suffered some little 
inconveniences, but enjoyed much comfort in my own soul. 
O what an honour to be engaged in so good a cause, and to 
serve so glorious a Master ! Like him, for the joy that is 
set before me, may I ever be willing to endure the cross, 
and despise the shame, continually looking unto Jesus, the 
author and finisher of my faith. 

" It has often afforded me much consolation to reflect on 
what Christ said to his disciples, when one of them said, Lo, 
we have left all and followed thee ; and he said unto them, 
Verily I say unto you, there is no man that hath left house, 
or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children for the kingdom 
of God's sake, who shall not receive manifold more in this 
present time, and in the world to come life everlasting. I 
have never been able to discern any worldly motive which 



31 

could have had any influence in making me a Baptist. I 
had literally to forsake (in point of sentiment) all my earthly 
friends, all my expectations of honour, and 1 may also say, 
of wealth. When I was settled in the ministry, it was with- 
out any stipulated salary whatever ; and during the seven 
years which 1 spent with the church where I was first set- 
tled, the whole of my salary would not average /or^y dollars 
a year ! Hence I may say with the Apostle, " These 
hands have ministered to my necessities and those that were 
with me." I would have gladly devoted myself wholly to 
the work, could I have seen any way in which my family 
could have heen supported." 

It could not be expected that a minister of Dr. Baldwin's 
native talent, and we now add, celebrity, should be destined 
to labour for life amid the sparse population of an almost 
frontier settlement. The event proved, that by this severe 
disciplhie, Providence had been preparing him for a field of 
more extensive usefulness. Towards the close of the win- 
ter of 1790, the Baptist Church in Sturbridge, Mass. un- 
derstanding that he was not confined by his ordination to 
the people in Canaan, applied to him to visit them as a can- 
didate for settlement. After some hesitation, the church in 
Canaan granted him liberty to visit Sturbridge, and pro- 
mised, that if after due deliberation he should consider it his 
duty to remove thither, they would furnish him with letters 
of dismission and recommendation- 

About the same time, he also received a letter from the 
church in Hampton, Con. containing a similar request. 
And while on his journey to visit these places, early in the 
summer of the same year, he received an invitation to visit 
the Second Baptist Church in this city, which had just be- 
fore been deprived by death of their excellent pastor, the 
Rev. Mr. Gair. After visiting Sturbridge and Hampton, 
and receiving from both churches an unanimous invitation 



32 

to become their pastor, Dr. Baldwin continued his journey 
to Boston 'y and in comphance with the request of the 
church, preached his first sermon to them July 4, 1790, 
which was founded on Acts x. 29 ; I ask, therefore, for 
what intent ye have sent for me. On this occasion he pro- 
ceeds to say : 

"I did not enjoy very great freedom on this occasion; 
being apprehensive that my audience were hearing merely 
as critics, in order to pass sentence on the preacher. Con- 
sequently my feelings were very different from what they 
were the preceding autumn, when I preached to the same 
society. I was then only a transient visiter, without the 
most distant thought of having a call to settle among them. 
After the meeting in the morning, one of the gentlemen of 
the society expressed, his opinion to me, that this was not 
one of my best sermons. This led me to suppose, that ho 
had not been very highly entertained. Indeed, rehgion 
seemed to be in a very low state. In the course of the 
week I preached a lecture ; and the ensuing Lord's day I 
enjoyed some comfort and freedom. The committee re^ 
quested me to continue to supply them, but I was under the 
necessity of returning to my family. Having engaged, 
however, to be with them on the first Lord's da} in August^ 
I then preached, and broke bread to them. On Monday, a 
young person, in great distress of mind, called at my lodg- 
ings. I conversed with her, and found that she had been 
awakened the preceding day by the power of diving truth. 
This aflforded me a little encouragement. In the evening I 
attended meeting at the house of one of the members of the 
First Church. On Tuesday evening I preached again at a 
private house, and some of the hearers appeared to be con- 
siderably affected. It was remarked by one of the church, 
that he had not seen so favourable an appearance for sever- 
al years. On Wednesday afternoon I was requested to 



33 

meet with a number of young people, and to preach in the 
evening at the same place. About thirty met in the after- 
noon, all of whom appeared to be deeply affected. I 
conversed with each individual ; they generally expressed a 
deep sense of their undone conditions. It was, literally, a 
place of weeping. The evening was solemn, and much 
feeling was manifested, while I preached to them from 
Matt. XXV. 10. 'And w^hile they went to buy, the bride- 
groom came^ and they that were ready \vent in with him to 
the marriage, and the door was shut.' On Monday even- 
ing, August 9, by particular request, I preached to the 
youth at the meeting house. As the evening was very un- 
pleasant, I concluded that few would attend. But to my 
surprise, when I came, it was with difficulty I could pass 
through the crowd to the pulpit. The discourse was from 
Eccles. xii. 1. ' Remember now thy Creator in the days 
of thy youth.' The excitement appeared daily to in- 
crease." 

In the beginning of August, some indications of a revival 
began to appear in the congregation, until a very considera- 
ble number w^ere heard with deep solemnity to inquire, What 
shall we do to be saved f The interest excited by his pubhc 
labours was very general ; and on the 22d of August the 
Church and Society, by an unanimous vote, invited him to 
become their pastor. 

As we have before stated. Dr. Baldwin had previously re- 
ceived an invitation to become the pastor of the Baptist 
church in Hampton, Conn, and also another from the church 
in Sturbridge, Mass. With the appearance of this latter so- 
ciety he was much pleased, and for some time thought that ho 
should probably settle with them. Two considerations, how- 
ever, had an influence in determining his mind to this city. 
One w^as, that he wished to reside where he could give him- 
self wholly to the work. This was the great object for which 

5 



34 

he wished to remove at all. For this, Boston appeared 
the most eligible situation. He perceived that here nothing 
was expected of a minister but what belonged to parochial 
concerns. This to him was a most desirable consideration. 
Connected with this, the special attention which appeared 
among the young people at this time had great weight upon 
his mind. He sincerely beheved that there was a greater 
prospect of usefulness here than in any country town what- 
soever. Besides these considerations it may be remarked, 
that a striking coincidence of events connected with his first 
coming to this city, seemed to point out the path of duty too 
plainly to be mistaken. Under these circumstances, though 
with much trembling, he gave, on the 18th of September 
1790, an affirmative answer to the invitation. 

Dr. Baldwin was in consequence installed on the 11th of 
November following. The services were performed in the 
meeting-house of Rev. Dr. Eliot, which was kindly offer- 
ed for the purpose. The Rev. Dr. Stillman, then Pastor 
of the First Baptist Church of this city, preached from 2 
Cor. iv. 7. " For we have this treasure in earthern vessels, 
that the excellency of the power may be of God and not of 
us." The Rev. Dr. Sjviith, of Haverhill, delivered the 
Charge ; the Rev. Thomas Green, of Cambridge, present- 
ed the Right Hand of Fellowship ; and the Rev. Joseph 
Grafton, of Newton, the venerable and the only survivor, 
offered the concluding prayer. The day was pleasant, the 
services highly interesting, and the assembly numerous and 
respectable.* 

We are now called to contemplate the subject of this Me- 
moir under circumstances very different from those with 
which his ministry commenced. From the frontier settle- 

* Dr. Baldwin's Discourse preached on the first Sabbath in January, 1824 ; 
with an Appendix, «ontaining an Historical Sketch of the Church and 
Society. 



35 

ments of New Hampshire, where almost the whole of his 
life had been spem, he was removed at once to the centre of 
a pohte and literary metropoHs, and was placed by the side 
of men whose praise hau long been in all the churches, and 
whose lives had been devoted to academic learning. Prob- 
ably the pulpits of this city have never since been more ably 
filled. Drs. Lathrop, Eliot, Howard, Belknap and 
Thacher were the ministers of the Congregational church- 
es, and Dr. Stillman, probably the most eloquent and most 
universally beloved clergyman that Boston has ever seen, 
was his immediate fellow labourer. His early advantages 
for education were, as we have seen, but scanty. Constant 
labour had left him but little opportunity to improve them. 
He was now 38 years of age ; a time of hfe beyond which 
men do not generally make m.uch advancement in knowl- 
edge. All the resources upon which, depending on the 
grace of God, he could rely in this arduous situation, were 
sincere desires to be useful, native vigour of mind, a fixed 
resolution to prepare himself for the duties to which Provi- 
dence had called him, and we may add, a store of sound 
reflection on theology, an intuitive knowledge of human 
nature, and sagacity in remarking the workings of the hu- 
man heart. 

For this situation, Dr. Baldwin proved himself manifestly 
equal. And his success at least proves one thing, that a 
man of sense is at home any where. He here commenced 
that course of judicious theological and critical study, which 
laid the foundation of his extensive reputation, and which 
enabled him not only to serve the church in the pulpit, but 
also still more extensively to illustrate and defend her doc- 
trines through the medium of the press. 

The ministry of Dr. Baldwin was at its commencement in 
this city unusually blest. The revival which began whilst 
he was preaching as a candidate, continued without much 



36 

interruption for two years. To the second and first Baptist 
churches more than 100 were added during the year 1790. 
In 1791, additions were made every month, sometimes to 
the number of nearly 20. The whole numher added to the 
2d church this year was about 70. 

At the time of Dr. Baldwin's installation, the number of 
members whose names were recorded on the books of the 
church was 90. Of these^ many were unknown and had 
been long forgotten. The present number of the church is 
about 450. During Dr. Baldwin's ministry, he baptized 
more than 6'?^0 who were the fruits of his ministry in this city. 

Of his Hfe, from the time of his settlement to his death, 
very few records are extant. The history of a clergyman, 
who devotes himself to the appropriate labours of his office, 
is of course barren of incidents which would interest the 
world. It is the plain and reiterated account of studies and 
visits and conversations and preaching, in which week after 
week has in rapid succession been consumed. His world is 
the people of his charge, or to speak still more truly and with 
still nicer restriction, it is that people seen only in the hght 
of their moral relations. The changes in these relations are 
so gradual, that generally the minister himself, can hardly 
estimate them without comparing attentively and at leisure 
two pretty distant periods. To describe these slowly moving 
revolutions, the means by which they were produced, or the 
results by which they were made manifest, would savour of 
egotism, or frequently of senility. In this unostentatious la- 
bour is the time of a minister of Christ usually and most 
profitably employed. Unseen, and noiseless as the evening 
dew, his influence descends upon the people of his charge ; 
and after his sun- had set and another has arisen, its effects 
are most visibly acknowledged in the moral loveliness of a 
succeeding generation. 

Such was the general tenor of Dr. Baldwin's ministry. 



37 

He was a faithful, affectionate, and devoted pastor. No man 
was perhaps ever more tenderly beloved by his church and 
congregation. Nor was his usefulness confined at all to 
these. He was for the part of the city in which he lived, 
appropriately the minister of the poor, and of those who but 
for him, might have said. No man careth for our souls. In 
the chamber of sickness and the house of death, he was em- 
phatically at home. His amiable deportment, venerable ap- 
pearance, and unassuming piety, rendered him the peculiar 
favourite of those who felt themselves neglected by the world. 
He was their minister. To him they could unburden their 
sorrows ; to him could they as a father unbosom the over- 
flowings of their penitence. He it was whom they wished 
to see at their bedside in the hour of their departure, and to 
commit the dust of their friends to its lone and silent grave. 
But not to this city alone was the usefulness of Dr. Bald- 
win restricted. Under his fostering hand, many of the 
churches in this vicinity arose, and by his parental care w^ere 
they sustained. And it is no small praise both to his piety 
and to his ability, that they drank so universally into his 
spirit. He had the faculty, the true evidence of great- 
ness, of forming other men into his own likeness. And 
hence it is that his character has left so broad an impression 
upon all this part of New England. The standard of the 
pulpit rose in his own denomination every where around 
him. He assisted the young of his brethren in their at- 
tempts to acquire the advantages of education. He set be- 
fore them an example of simple, unaffected piety. He was 
a man of peace, and hushed all their contentions, until in his 
vicinity contention was wholly forgotten. In few places of 
our country, perhaps, is there so great a degree of harmony 
existing as in the associations of which Dr. Baldwin was a 
prominent member. This fact all will unite in ascribing to 
his meek, patient, wise, and upright precept and example. 



It ivas in labours such as these that his life was principally 
consumed. There are, however, a few circumstances some- 
what more deserving a particular notice. 

We have alluded to the revival of religion which was wit- 
nessed during the two first years of his settlement. After this 
subsided, the church continued for some time to advance 
with the growth which usually attends the faidiful dispensa- 
tion of the word and ordinances of the gospel. In the year 
1797, the congregation had so much increased, that it was 
found necessary to enlarge their place of worship. This 
work was completed and the house re-opened on the 30th of 
November, in that year. A sermon was preached by the 
Pastor on the occasion, from Psalm cxxii. 7, 8, 9. Peace 
be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces, fee. 
And although the addition comprised two sevenths of the 
whole house, yet the pews were soon taken up, and the 
house became as full as before the enlargement was made. 

In the year 1803, a second revival of religion, and the 
m6St remarkable that was witnessed during Dr. Baldwin's 
ministry in this city, occurred. It extended to both the first 
and second, then the only Baptist churches in Boston, and 
its results were felt also in the churches of other denomina- 
tions. It is perhaps not too much to say, that the happy 
change in the religious views of a large portion of professing 
Christians in this city, may date its origin very evidently 
from this event. It continued for more than two years, and 
a very great number were the subjects of its salutary influ- 
ences. 

The particular account of this work of the Holy Spirit, 
may be found in the 1st vol. of the American Baptist Maga- 
zine, 1st series, numbers for September, 1804, and Septem- 
ber, 1805. To these we must refer our readers, as the nar- 
rative would be too extended for our present purpose. It 
will only be proper here to remark, that the attention com- 



39 

menced simultaneously in both churches in the spring of 
1803. In September, October, and November of that year, 
the attention was the most solemn. In September of 1804, 
though somewhat abated, it was still pleasing and interest- 
ing ; and it was not .till August, 1805, nearly two years and 
a half from its commencement, that it could be considered 
to have terminated. During this period, the first church re- 
ceived 135, and the second 212 ; in all, 347 members. 

We cannot, whilst referring to this work of grace, omit a 
few extracts from the remarks which accompany the narra- 
tive to which we have alluded. We do it to illustrate the 
nature of the religious impressions then made ujion the minds 
of the multitudes, who thronged the houses of worship, as 
well as to show the sound discretion of him whom God used 
as one of the principal instruments of their conversion. 

" This work," he remarks, " has, we beheve, been carried 
on with as Ihtle noise and confusion as any of equal extent 
which has ever taken place in our land. We are far from 
thinking that there cannot be a good work where there is a 
considerable mixture of enthusiasm ; but still we think it not 
very desirable. There has been little or no outcry, swoon- 
ing, &:c. in the present work. The mind has been silently 
yet powerfully impressed. 

" The converts in general have appeared to have a deep 
and thorough sense of the depravity of their own hearts, and 
of the infinite evil of sin as committed against a holy God. 
They have not so frequently expressed their fears of hell, as 
their dread of sin on account of the wrong which it contains 
in itself. Comfort has been variously communicated. The 
precious promises have in some instances been powerfully 
applied. Others on viewing the Divine character, have had 
instant joy infused into their souls. They have felt such a 
sweetness in meditating upon the perfections of God and the 
glories of the Redeemer, as apparently to lose sight of every 



40 

thing else. In other instances, light has been gradually let 
into the mind, and they have obtained evidence of their 
change by finding within themselves the tempers and feel- 
ings of the gracious heart. 

" We add, in the last place, a remark upon the effects of 
this work on individuals and on society at large. It has 
reclaimed the profane swearer, the Sabbath breaker, the 
gambler. It has made the ' young men sober-minded.' It 
has formed the minds of all who have embraced it to the 
love of virtue and religion. It has led them to the dis- 
charge of all the duties of social and religious life with con- 
scientiousness and fidelit}'. In a word, it has laid a founda- 
tion to hope, that in future Hfe they will so conduct as to be 
ornaments to rehgion, and blessings to the w^orld." To this 
the most happy period of his ministry, Dr. Baldwin often 
referred with unspeakable pleasure to the very close of his 
hfe. 

In September, 1803, Cr. Baldwin, by the appointment of 
the Baptist Missionary Society of Massachusetts, commenced 
the publication of the American Baptist Magazine, then un- 
der the title of the Massachusetts Baptist Missionary Maga- 
zine. This work was first published semi-annually, then 
quarterly, afterwards once in two months, and at present 
monthly. From its commencement until the year 1817, he 
was its sole editor. From 1817 until his death, he was its 
senior editor, and continued from time to time to enrich its 
pages with the results of his experience and the warnings of 
his wisdom. For many years, this was the only Baptist 
rehgious periodical work in America. To its influence, 
and to the labours of Dr. Baldwin by its means, may be 
ascribed in a great degree the- rapid progress which has 
been made in his own denomination in acquaintance with 
each other, in missionary enterprize, and in religious know 
ledge. 



39 

Dr. Baldwin has, however, been more extensively known 
to the world as an author, through his works on Baptism 
and Communion. The first of these was entitled. Open 
Communion Examined, and was originally published in 
1789, at the request of the Woodstock Association, whilst 
the author resided in New Hampshire. The second was 
pubHshed in 1794, and was in answ^er to a tract of the Rev. 
Noah Worcester, entitled " A Friendly Letter,''^ addressed 
to the author. In 1806, these were repubhshed in a vol- 
mne, with the addition of an appendix, containing a reply to 
Mr. Edwards' " Candid Reasons" together with additional 
remarks upon some sermons and pamphlets which had re- 
cently appeared on the subject. 

The author's principal work in this controversy, was pub- 
lished in 1810, and is entitled, A Series of Letters, in which 
the distinguishing sentiments of the Baptists are explained 
and vindicated, in answer to a late publication hy the Rev, 
Samuel Worcester, A. M. addressed to the author, entitled. 
Serious and Candid Letters. This is a volume of about 
two hundred and fifty pages, and contains a pretty ample 
discussion of the principal topics of dispute between the 
Baptists and Pedobaptists. This is considered the ablest of 
Dr. Baldwin's productions. It was written in the meridian 
of his strength, upon a subject on which he bad long and 
deeply reflected, and at a time when, by repeated trials, he 
had become aware of his own power, and could fearlessly 
rely upon the decisions of his own intellect. It has accord- 
ingly given him a more extensive reputation than any other 
of his works, both on this and the other side of the Atlantic. 
The late Rev. Andrew Fuller, than whom no man was bet- 
ter able to decide upon its merits, pronounced this the ablest 
discussion of the question he had ever seen.* 

* This volume, and Dr. Baldwin's other works on Baptism and Commu- 
nion, may be purchased at the bookstores of Messrs. Lincoln & Edmands, 
and James Loving. 

6 



40 

To enter into an analysis of these letters, would, on this 
occasion be irrelevant to our object. It could not be done 
without presenting an abstract of the whole matter in dis- 
pute. It will be sufficient to remark, that the letters enter 
quite fully into the merits of the controversy on most of its 
points, and they every where exhibit a vigour of intellect, 
an acuteness of logic, and a perspicuity of reasoning, not 
often to be met with in works of this nature. Their style 
is simple, forcible, and direct ; sometimes enlivened by the 
easy playfulness of a man, who feels entirely at home in his 
subject, and at others repelhng with manly dignity the un- 
handsome aspersions which in those days, it was too com- 
mon to heap upon the Baptists, or those who defended 
them. Now that the hour of controversy has gone by, it is 
not, we beUeve, denied by candid men, even of other de- 
nominations, that, able as was his antagonist, and he was in 
his lifetime the leader of his sect, yet that Dr. Baldwin had 
the decided advantage in the argument. 

Besides these works. Dr. Baldwin pubhshed in the year 
1820, a short Essay on the subject of John's Baptism, a 
question which at that time, in consequence of the allusion 
to it in Mr. Hall's work on Communion, was considerably 
agitated. The design of the author was to establish the 
position, that John's baptism was Christian baptism ; a doc- 
trine which many were labouring to subvert. This, al- 
though v^ritten with ability, is probably inferior to his other 
works on this controversy. If, however, it lacks somewhat 
of the vigour of his former productions, it should be remem- 
bered that the man of seventy is not in all respects the 
man of forty-five. 

Whilst thus actively engaged in the arduous labours . T a 
pastor, as the editor of an important periodical work, and as 
a successful polemical writer, it will of course be su^;posed 
that Dr. Baldvan received those marks of public attention 



41 

which are usually bestowed upon those who rise to emi- 
nence in their profession. He was repeatedly chosen chap- 
lain of the General Court of this Commonwealth. In 1802, 
be was appointed to deliver the annual sermon on the day 
of the General Election. This sermon was received with 
great attention, and is thus noticed in the New York Ameri- 
can Review : 

" This discourse was originally published in Boston, by 
order of the House of Representatives of Massachusetts ; 
but having proved more than usually acceptable to the 
public, a second edition, it seems, was called for ; and the 
^ demand still increasing, a third impression in this city was 
thought proper. These circumstances alone afford strong 
presumption in favour of the discourse. 

" The text is chosen from 1 Peter, ii. 16 , * As free, and 
not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness ; but as 
the servants of God.' From this passage the author con- 
siders himself as naturally led to make the following in- 
quiries : 

" When may a people be said to be free .'* What are 
the means best calculated to preserve their freedom, and 
promote their happiness and prosperity ? And in what re- 
spects they are in danger from the abuse of their liberty." 

" These several questions are discussed with much good 
sense ; and though Mr. Baldwin is necessarily led, in the 
course of this discussion, to speak of poHtical points which 
are much controverted, and even to advert to those topics 
of American pohcy which have so much divided and agi- 
tated our citizens ; yet he guards against every thing that 
approaches to party virulence, and expresses himself, on 
every point of a political nature which he touches, with 
great dignity and mildness. 

" On the whole, we consider this discourse as belonging 
to the superiour order of sermons } and though the senti- 



42 

ments are not new, nor the style remarkably polished, yet 
both are sufficiently interesting to give much pleasure to the 
intelligent and candid reader." 

In 1803, he was admitted to the degree of Doctor in 
Divinity at Union College, New York. The degree of 
Master of Arts had been some time previously conferred 
upon him by Brown University, R. I. Of this institution 
he was first ^ trustee, and at the time of his decease had 
been for many years the senior felloiv. Of Waterville Col- 
lege, Maine, to which he had been a liberal benefactor, he 
was a trustee from its first organization. Of most of the 
benevolent institutions of this cit} he was an active mana- 
ger, and of not a few the presiding officer. At the time of 
his death, he was President of the Baptist Board of Mana- 
gers for Foreign Missions, and one of the trustees of the 
Columbian College, in the District of Columbia. He was 
a member of the Convention for amending the Constitution 
of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in the year 1821, 
and in all its deliberations, specially those which had any 
bearing upon the subject of religious liberty, he took an ac- 
tive part, and not unfrequently spoke with unusual ability. 

To those vi^ho were acquainted with his reputation, it is 
needless to remark, that of his own denomination in the 
northern States, he stood decidedly at the head. No im- 
portant association seemed complete unless it had enrolled 
him as its President. No measure seemed to promise suc- 
cess, and it is but a just tribute to his wisdom to add, that 
very few succeeded, which had not received his sanction. 
His brethren may with much justice say of him, Unto him 
men gave ear, and waited and kept silence at his counsel. 
After his words they spake not again, and his speech drop- 
ped upon them. He chose out our way, and sat chief, 
and dwelt as a king in the army, as one that comforteth 
the mourners. 



43 

Within this widely extended sphere of usefulness, beloved 
tind respected by all good men of every station and of every 
sect, did Dr. Baldwin walk until the close of life. No 
gusts of passion, no bitterness of resentment, no sectarian 
jealousy had ahenated friends or exasperated enemies. He 
retnined the entire confidence and veneration of the com- 
munity to the last ; for at the first, having honestly deserved 
it, by meekness and humility and sincerity, he daily evinced 
that with no other man could it be so safely trusted. 

About seven years before his death, he was attacked with 
a slight paralytic affection, which gave his friends the first 
intimation that his active labours were drawing to a close. 
From this his physical system soon recovered ; but he al- 
ways believed that his mind had received an injury, which 
would never be repaired. He sometimes alluded to it with 
some degree of emotion, and seemed aware that his men- 
tal energies, particularly his memory, were sensibly en- 
feebled. Whether the change was owing to this attack or 
not, it is probable that his estimation of himself was cor- 
rect. It was not, however, until about four years before 
his death, that his friends would allow that they beheld in 
his intellect any of the infirmities of age. 

And when these were at last discovered, they were such 
as rendered him to the pious and the kind man even more 
than ever interesting. Old age had imparted none of its 
fretfulness, but on the contrary, shed abroad upon him yet 
more abundantly, the grace of Christian charity. The pow- 
er with which he once could grasp a difficult subject, and 
pursue to its results a striking chain of illustration, seemed 
perhaps gradually in his public performances to be leaving 
him ; but yet the ardour of his piety was unabated, and his 
parental exhortations were frequently inimitably affecting. 
He spoke in the undisguised sincerity of his heart, as a man 
on the brink of eternity ; and an audience would sometimes 



44 



be melted into tears by the exhortation of his old age,- 
which would probably have remained unaffected and un- 
moved by the eloquence of his more vigorous manhood. 

In private conversation, the change was far less percep- 
tible. His memory, as is usually the case, was the power 
of his mind on which the hand of age had been laid most 
heavily. This was not, however, often discovered, unless 
he were suffering under the pressure of some temporary in- 
disposition. His judgment remained almost entire to the 
last. We do not mean to say that he could comprehend a 
train of abstruse reasoning as readily as at forty-five, or see 
as intuitively the results of moral combinations ; but on a 
matter once fairly before him, his opinion during the last 
year of his hfe was as sound as ever. As is common to old 
age, he dehghted more in the narrative than in the abstract ; 
but his narrative was always interesting, and his illustration 
pertinent and happy. And thus, like the sun at his setting, 
what was wanting in meridian splendour, was more than 
supplied by the mild radiance on which the eye delighted to 
dwell, and which threw abroad its rich and mellowed glo- 
ries more profusely the nearer it approached to the moment 
of its departure. 

For about a year before his decease, his strength began 
visibly to decline. His feeble voice and tottering step too 
well forewarned his friends that his venerable form was 
soon to be gathered to his fathers. Of this, he himself was 
aware ; and frequently, both in public and in private, allud- 
ed with much feeling to the hour of his departure, now so 
rapidly approaching. Rarely, for some time before his 
death, did he attend a meeting with his brethren in the 
ministry, without alluding to the fact that he might never 
meet with them again. Scarcely could he hear of the hap- 
py departure of a saint, especially if he were aged or a 
minister of the gospel, without betraying visible em« Jon. 



45 

'It was not the fear of death. Dr. Baldwin was not afraid 
to die. His faith was firm, his hope was unclouded. It 
was the tear which nature sheds over the sundering of long- 
eherished, of much-loved relations. It was the tear which 
an apostle shed when standing for the last time on the sea- 
shore of Miletus, or which a greater than an apostle shed 
when surrounded by the weeping sisters at the sad tomb of 
Bethany. 

Dr. Baldwin, as our readers are already apprized, died 
suddenly and from home. He had left Boston to attend 
the commencement of Waterville College, and arrived at 
Hallowell on Wednesday, August 24. The voyage seemed 
beneficial to his health, and on the succeeding Sabbath, he 
preached twice in the Baptist meeting-house in that town. 
In the morning his text was in Prov. xix. 23 : " The fear 
of the Lord tendeth to life ; and he that hath it shall abide 
satisfied." His design in this discourse was to show, that 
religion had a good effect on those that embraced it ; that 
ft not only insured eternal hfe, but was often the means of 
prolonging life to old age, and that it afforded the only ra- 
tional happiness in this world, and those who possessed it 
always remained satisfied, and enjoyed more than their anti- 
cipations. Hence he urged the necessity of becoming re- 
ligious, particularly to the young, in order to secure a per- 
manent good in the present world, and everlasting fehcity 
in the world to come. On this occasion was sung the 1 19th 
Psalm, 13th part, L. M. and 122d Hymn, 2d book. 

His text in the afternoon was, Gallatians ii. 20 : " The 
life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the 
Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.'' 
In this last discourse, he declared his behef in the di- 
vinity of Christ, and adduced some evidence of it from the 
Scriptures ', he bore testimony to the supports, which during 
his long life, he had derived from the gospel of Jesuit 



46 



Christ. He declared that his only hope of pardon and ac- 
ceptance with God, was through the mediation of a crucified 
Redeemer. With an emphasis which sensibly affected his au- 
dience, he adopted as his own, the language of his text, and 
declared, " The hfe which / live in the flesh, I live by the 
faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for 
me." He earnestly and affectionately exhorted his hear- 
ers to hve a life of faith ; expressed his belief that it was the 
last time which he should ever address them, or they should 
hear the gospel from his lips. He was now standing, he 
told them, on the brink of the grave, on the verge of eterni- 
ty ! and he ardently desired, that they would listen to the 
accents of mercy and regard this solemn admonition. He 
felt a deep solicitude for their happiness, and hoped to meet 
all the congregation on the high hills of salvation 5 to unite 
with all the redeemed miUions, in ascribing the praise and 
the glory to Him, that had loved them and given himself for 
them. As he was concluding the discourse, he was exceed- 
ingly animated. He seemed, hke Stephen to have been 
looking into heaven, and anticipating the glory which await- 
ed him. 

Before the first prayer, the 77th Hymn, 1st Book, was 
sung; after the prayer, the 100th Hymn, 1st Book; and 
after the sermon, the 71st Psalm, 1st Part, C. M. which 
was peculiarly appropriate. 

1. 

My God, my everlasting hope, 

I live upon thy truth : 
Thine hands have held my childhood up. 

And strengthen'd all my youth, 

2. 

My flesh was fashion'd by thy power_^ 
With all these limbs of mine : 



49 

And from my mother's painful hour, 
I've been entirely thine. 

3. 

Still has my life new wonders seen, 

Repeated ev'ry year ; 
Behold my days that yet remain, 

I trust them to thy care. 

4. 

Cast me not off when strength declines, 

When hoary hairs arise ; 
And round me let thy glory shine, 

Whene'er thy servant dies. 

5. 

Then in the hist'ry of my age, 

When men review my days. 
They'll read thy love in ev'ry page, 

In ev'ry line thy praise. 

A great solemnity was apparent in the congregation and 
much feeling. The pastor of the church offered the last 
prayer and read this interesting psalm. The feelings of the 
venerable ambassador seemed for a moment to be transfer- 
red to him, and the sentiments which it contained were 
heard with evident emotion. His audience felt assured 
that this was his last testimony to them in favor of the gos- 
pel ; but little did they think he was so near the end of his 
journey, and that they should see his face no more. 

On the following day, August 29, he proceeded to Wa- 
terville. He seemed better for the ride, and spent the af- 
ternoon in walking over the College premises, and exam- 
ining the condition of the institution. In the evening he 
officiated at the domestic altar with peculiar devotion and 
solemnity, and after bidding each individual an aftectionate 
adieu, retired to rest at about nine o'clock. After sleeping 
apparently well for about an hour, he seemed to awake, 

7 



50 

and answered in his usual manner, a question respecting his 
health ; he then suddenly groaned, and was no more. His 
usefulness and his life terminated together. Spared the 
pains of death and the agonies of separation " he was not, 
for God took him ;" and almost whilst he hstened to the 
voice of affection on earth, the plaudit burst upon his ear, 
Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the 
joy of thy Lord. 

Every token of respect for the memory of the deceased 
was shown by the Trustees and Faculty of Waterville Col- 
lege. On Wednesday his remains, enclosed in a leaden 
coffin, were sent to Boston, attended by the Hon. Mark 
Harris, of Portland^ who had been appointed by the Trus- 
^tees to accompany the afflicted widow with her sad charge 
to the place of his former residence. They arrived there 
on Friday, September 2-, 

On Monday, Sept. 5, a prayer was offered at the house 
of the deceased by the Rev. Stephen Gang, of Providence. 
The other funeral services were attended at the meeting- 
house of the Second Baptist Church by a thronged and deep- 
ly affected congregation. The Rev. Josep» Grafton, of 
Kewton, who offered the concluding prayer at the installation 
of the deceased, prayed. Rev. Mr. Sharp, of Boston, de- 
livered the funeral discourse from Acts xi. 24» He was a 
good man. Rev. Mr. Wayland closed the sewices witk 
prayer. The body was then conveyed to the family tombj, 
followed by thousands, who were anxious to testify their re- 
spect for this faithful and distinguished servant of the Lord 
Jesus Christ. 

Dr. Baldwin was twice married. His second wife was^ 
Miss Margaret Duncan of Haverhill, Mass. who still survives^ 
to mourn her irreparable loss. 

It only remains that we close this imperfect memoir witb 
a few remarks u] n the character of Dr. Baldwin^ and a 
Est of his publications. 



51 

The history of a man's life is the only sure evidence of his 
ability. What a man has done we hold to be proof positive 
of his power. Judged by this standard, Dr. Baldwin cer- 
tainly will be ranked among the most eminent men ot his pro- 
fession in this country. To say nothing of his publications, 
some of which have become standard works on the subjects 
of which they treat, it is evident that no man not highly gift- 
ed of nature, could ever under his circumstances, have ac- 
quired so extensive an influence, and retained it to the last, 
entire and undeminished. Men do not confide their inter- 
ests into the hands of another, unless he be abler than them- 
selves. And he who for so long a time united the suffrages 
of all, could only have retained them by giving repeated 
proofs of undoubted native pre-eminence. 

And this consideration will be more striking, if we recol- 
lect the circumstances under which Dr. Baldwin entered the 
ministry in this city. He had not been favored in early 
life with a classical education, and his opportunities for intel- 
lectual improvement had been limited ; but he was endowed 
with talents of a superior order ; and had acquired consider- 
able knowledge of human nature. He was of an age at 
which the intellectual habits of most men are formed. They 
are too wise to learn, and too much attached to the habits of 
their early education to amend them. Hence too frequent- 
ly, to men of this age, a change of location is the end of use- 
fulness. But not so with the subject of this memoir. The 
change was a great one, but he was equal to it. He looked, 
upon the relations of society in the light of common sense 
and of truth. He perceived what was required in the situa- 
tion which he had entered. He saw what he wanted; and 
in the strength of a mind competent to dictate terms to it- 
self, he resolved to supply it. He threw aside what was un- 
suitable to his present station ; he performed with his full 
ability what that station required 5 and soon found what he 



52 

who honestly does his duty will always find, that he was 
competent to the work which Providence had assigned him. 

The prominent trait in Dr. Baldwin's intellectual charac- 
ter was vigorous and manly discrimination. His imagination 
was not luxuriant, nor had his taste acquired that accuracy 
of tact, which is only the result of an early acquaintance with 
the classics of language. Hence he succeeded best in a 
train of ratiocination, especially if it were one which led to 
an urgent appeal to the conscience — therefore his style is 
remarkable more for perspicuity than elegance. It is clear 
and forcible, but not embellished ; and it gains nothing, 
when the author attempts to adorn it. 

Id pubhc hfe, Dr. Baldwin combined in a rare degree un- 
bending rectitude with unsophisticated kindness of heart. In 
the discharge of his duty he never knew fear. He was 
naturally above any thing like timidity j and religious prin- 
ciple had still more eiFectually taught him to do right "un- 
caring consequences." And yet no man could have more 
carefully avoided unnecessarily injuring the feelings of the 
most insignificant human being. He rigidly obeyed the 
command, Speak evil of no man. In company, or at home, 
he either spoke kindly, or was silent. Whilst true to a hair's 
breath to the principles which he believed, he gave full 
credit to the honesty and the rectitude of those from whom 
he differed. Hence was it that he so often obtained the 
blessing of a peace maker. Hence he maintained to the 
last, the entire confidence of men of the most conflicting o- 
pinions, and even came off from the arena of theological 
controversy rich in the esteem even of those whom his argu- 
ment failed to convince. 

But it was in the retirement of domestic life, as the hus- 
band, the father, and the friend, that you beheld him clothed 
in the most endearing attributes. It was here that he shed 
around him the bland and attractive lustre of finished moral 



53 

excellence. His disposition was in a pre-eminent degree 
charitable, kind and benevolent. To know him at home, 
was to venerate and love him. Always self possessed, al- 
ways dignified, yet always instructing and always cheerful, 
no one could long be unhappy beneath his hospitable roof. 
The writer of this feeble attempt to delineat his character 
was for four years in the habit of seeing him daily, and on 
terms of the most familiar intercourse ; and for nearly half 
of this time was an inmate of his family, and remarked his 
deportment under every variety of circumstances ; and he 
can truly say, that he dses not recollect to have ever seen 
him betray a temper inconsistent with the Christian pro- 
fession. 

The character of his piety corresponded, as might be ex- 
pected, with the type of his mind. It was visible in the firm 
adherence to truth, and the conscientious practice of what 
he believed to be his duty. This was at the same time 
blendid with fervent charity and ardent love for souls. He 
was a sincere behever in the doctrines of the Reformation, 
and his daily Hfe manifest their influence upon his heart. If 
any feature of his piety was more prominent than another, it 
was meek, childlike humility. This was seen in every walk 
of life, and every where did it add a new charm to his other 
excellent endowments. 

As a preacher, he stood among the most eminent of his 
time in the denomination of which he was so long the dis- 
tinguished ornament. He has pubHshed more than thirty 
sermons preached on particular occasions, and all of them 
are deserving of attentive perusal. In all of them may be 
discovered the traces of strong and accurate reflection, or of 
fervent and deeply affected piety. Sometimes they are re- 
markable fo acute and original argument, and at others for 
tender and overflowing feeling. Whatever was his subject, 
he always left upon his audience the conviction of his own 



54 

sincere and earnest solicitude for their everlasting good. 
His expostulations with the young were in a remarkable de- 
gree affectionate, parental, and pathetic. Very frequently 
on such occasions, he was moved even to tears. 

His manner tn the pulpit was dignified, simple, and unaf- 
fected. He rarely wrote his sermons in full ; and not gen- 
erally, at least in the latter part of his hfe, did he even fur- 
nish himself with a copious skeleton. His prepapation most 
commonly consisted in studious reflection upon his subject, 
and writing merely the leading divisions. To this method 
he had been earHest accustomed, and in this manner he was 
probably more generally successful. Some of his ablest 
printed sermons were preached in this manner, and never 
written till after their dehvery. Though far from being 
prejudiced against the use of notes, he was fully and doubt- 
less very truly aware, that at the present day, at least in 
N^ew-England, there is as much danger to be apprehended 
from too great a reliance upon writing, as there is from not 
writing. at all. 

In person. Dr. Baldwin was rather above the usual size, 
firmly and strongly built, and towards the close of his life 
barely inchned to corpulency. His countenance was digni- 
fied, mild, and engaging, and his hair, of late years perfectly 
white, rendered his whole appearance in the highest degree 
venerable. His habits were temperate and regular, without 
being formal or ascetic. Hence it will be readily imagined, 
that he uniformly left upon every one the impression of old 
age in its loveliest and most interesting aspect, and Christ- 
ianity in its mildest, and most attractive exhibition. 



56 



THE following, we believe, is an accurate enumeration of Dr. Bald- 
win's published works. 

1. The Baptism of Believers only, and the Particular 
Communion of the Baptist Churches explained and vindica- 
ted. 1 vol. J2mo. pp. 340. 

2. A Series of Letters, in which the distinguishing senti- 
ments of the Baptists are explained and vindicated ; in an- 
swer to a late publication by the Rev. Samuel Worcester, 
A. M. addressed to the author, entitled, Serious and Can- 
did Letters. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 244. 

3. An Essay on the Baptism of John, in two parts. 

4. Letter to a friend. 

5. The BacksHder a Tract. 

6. A Catechism : this valuable work has passed through 
six editions. 

[Besides these, the following. Sermons were preached on 
various occasions, and published by special request.] 

7. A Sermon delivered at Bridgewater, December 17, 
1794, at the Ordination of the Rev. David Leonard to the 
work of an evangeUst. 

8. A Sermon delivered February 19, 1795, being the 
day of Public Thanksgiving throughout the United States. 

9. A Sermon delivered at Boston, on Tuesday, April 2, 
1799, at a quarterly meeting of several churches for special 
prayer. 

10. A Sermon delivered at Boston, July 11, 1799, at the 
Ordination of the Rev. WilHam Collier. 

11. A Sermon delivered to the Second Baptist Society 
in Boston, on Lord's day, December 29, 1799, occasioned 
by the death of Gen. George Washington, who departed this 
life the 14th inst. aged 68. 

12. The Approved Workman in the Gospel Ministry. 
A Sermon delivered at Templeton, October 16, 1800, at 
the Installation of the Rev. Elisha Andrews to the pastoral 
care of the Baptist church and congregation in that town. 



56 



13. A Sermon preached February 15, 1802, before the 
Honourable Senate and House of Representatives of the 
Commonwealth of Massachusetts, on the day of the inter- 
ment of His Honor Samuel Phillips, Esq. Lieutenant Gov- 
ernor. 

14. A Sermon delivered before his Excellency Caleb 
Strong, Governor, the honorable the Council, Senate, and 
House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Massa- 
chusetts, May 26, 1802 ; being the day of General Election. 

15. A Sermon delivered at Barnstable, July 14, 1802, at 
the Installation of the Rev. John Peak to the care of the 
Baptist church and congregation in that town. 

16. A Sermon delivered at the Dedication of the new 
Meeting-house in BelHngham, October 27, 1802. 

17. A Sermon delivered at Beverly, June 15, 1803, at 
the Installation of the Rev. Elisha WiUiams to the pastoral 
care of the Baptist church and congregation in that town. 

18. The Eternal Purpose of God the foundation of effec- 
tual Calling. A Sermon dehvered before the First Baptist 
Society in Boston, Lord's day morning, February 19, 1804. 

19. A Sermon dehvered May 23, 1804, in the Baptist 
Meeting-house, Gold Street, New-York, at the Ordination 
of the Rev. Jeremiah Chaplain. 

20. A Sermon delivered in Boston, May 30, 1804, be- 
fore the Baptist Missionary Society of Massachusetts j be- 
ing their second anniversary. 

21. The Happiness of a People illustrated and explained. 
A Sermon delivered before the Second Baptist Society in 
Boston, November 29, 1804 ; being the day of Annual 
Thanksgiving. 

22. A Sermon dehvered at Sedgwick, May 15, 1805, at 
the Ordination of the Rev. Daniel Merrill to the Pastoral 
Charge of the Baptist Church of Christ in that place. 



57 

23. A Discourse delivered before the Members of the 
Boston Female Asylum, September 26, 1S06 ; being their 
sixth anniversary. 

24. The Peaceful Reflections and Glorious Prospects of 
the departing Saint. A Discourse dehvered in the Meet- 
ing-house of the First Baptist Church in Boston, March 16, 
1S07, at the interment of the Rev. Samuel Siillman, D. D. 
late Pastor of said Church. 

25. A Discourse delivered before the Ancient and Hon- 
orable Artillery Company in Boston, June 1, 1807 ', being 
the anniversary of their election of officers. 

26. The dangerous influence of vicious example. A 
Sermon delivered in the Second Baptist Meeting-house in 
Boston, on Lord's day evening, May 28, 1809. 

' 27. A Discourse dehvered January 1, 1811, at the open- 
ing of the new Meeting-house belonging to the Second Bap- 
tist Church and Society in Boston. 

28. The Supreme Deity of Christ illustrated. A Dis- 
course delivered Lord's day, April 19, 1812, before the. 
Second Baptist Church and Congregation in Boston ; with 
an Appendix, containing remarks on the terms, " Only be- 
gotten Son of God," &ic. 

29. The Knowledge of the Lord filling th« earth. A 
Sermon delivered in Boston, June 4, 1812, before the Mas- 
sachusetts Bible Society ; being their third anniversary. 

30. Heirs of Crace. A Sermon delivered at Charles- 
tow^n, September 26, 1813 ; occasioned by the death of 
Mrs. Abigail ColHer, wife of the Rev. William Colher, 
Pastor of the Baptist Church in said town. 

31. The Christian Ministry. A Sermon delivered on 
Wednesday, March 30, 1814, in the First Baptist Meeting- 
house in Boston, at the Installation of the Rev. James M. 
Winchell, 

8 



58 

32. Missionary Exertions encouraged. A Sermon de- 
livered in Sansom Street Meeting-house, Philadelphia, May 
7, 1817, before the General Convention of the Baptist de- 
nomination in the United States. 

33. A Sermon delivered at Cambridge, December 25, 
1817, at the opening of a new meeting-house, and the con- 
stitution of a Baptist church in that place. 

34. The Danger of hving without the Fear of God. A 
Discourse on Robbery, Piracy, and Murder, in which Duel- 
ling and Suicide are particularly considered. Delivered in 
Boston, February 21, 1819, the Lord's day following the 
execution of the pirates. 

35. A Sermon dehvered February 25, 1820, at the Fu- 
neral of the Rev. James M. Winchell, A. M. late pastor of 
the First Baptist Church in Boston. 

36. The Duty of Parents to Children. A Sermon de- 
livered in the Meeting-house of the Second Baptist Church 
and Society in Boston, on the afternoon of Lord's day, 
March 17, 1822. 

37. A Discourse delivered in the Second Baptist Meet- 
ing-house in Boston, on the first Lord's day in January, 
1824. With an Appendix, containing Historical Sketches 
of the Church and Society from their commencement to 
the present time. 



FUNERAL SERMON 



FOR REV. DR. BALDWIN. 

Delivered itk September, 1825, in the Baptist Meeting-house, in IlalloiccU, 

Maine, where Dr. Baldwin spent the preceding Sabbath, 

and preached his last tico Sermons. 



2 Tim. iv. 7. — •• I have fought a good fight ; I have finished my course 
I have kept the faith." 

War has generally been a scourge to the human race. 
Many of the battles have been of no use, but attended with 
much evil. A few have adorned their brow with laurels, 
extended their kingdom, and handed their names down to 
posterity on the records of fame. While multitudes have 
paid their blood as the price, and the widows' grief and the 
orphans' tears have increased beyond measure. And even 
in those battles, which have been productive of the general 
good, many of these evil consequences have followed to 
mar that good, and add bitter to the cup of joy. 

But the apostle, in our text, speaks of a good fight, in 
which, he had been engaged ; in which, all was good, with- 
out any mixture of evil. It was a contest between the flesh 
and spirit; a warfare with the w^orld and the prince of dark- 
ness, to promote the cause of truth and the interests of 
rehgion. 

As a Christian, he found this conflict in his own breast ; 
commencing from the time in which he enlisted in the ser- 



60 

vice of the Redeemer. The heart then declares for God, 
and determines to fight on his side, and all the evil pro- 
pensities and passions rise up in rebellion. These must be 
subdued, and the victory over each one gained, till the 
whole body is brought into subjection, and every thought 
becomes obedient to Christ. Paul had, in a remarkable 
manner, succeeded in this contest ; no sacrifice did he con- 
sider too great ; no duty too arduous, to complete this im- 
portant victory. 

As a Christian, his life and conversation v^ere at wslv 
with the world ; with its evil examples, vicious courses, sel- 
fish maxims, corrupt habits and seducing influence. And 
as a minister of Christ, he was at war with the principles of 
the world, the false systems of rehgion, supported, as they 
were, by strong prejudices and high authority. 

It was his duty not merely to live a holy life, and set a 
worthy example, but to attack vice and error in the strong 
fortress. It was his duty to make no compromise with the 
enemy, to assum.e no mark of disguise, but openly and 
boldly to attack the most powerful. 

It was not a single battle which would decide the day 5 
but a long course, in which the greater part of his life had 
been spent. He had ever been steadfast : never a traitor ; 
he never turned his back on the enemy, but was faithful 
even to the last. Sometimes, perhaps, wouded, and even 
overcome and taken captive ; but at last, gained a com- 
plete and decisive victory over all his enemies, through the 
great Captain of his salvation, the Lord Jesus Christ. 

This was a good fight, inasmnch as God was glorified ; 
Christ honored, his kingdom advanced, his church benefit- 
ted ; and those that were slain by- the sword of the spirit, 
were raised to a better life. 

He could now say, I have finished my course. Here, by 
another figure, he represents the same idea in a different 



Gl 

point of view. Alluding to the Grecian games, in which 
the greatest exertions were made, and necessarily continu- 
ed to the end, in order to be successful. By this figure he 
represents the arduousness and severity of the conflict, in 
which every person, both of body and mind, was engaged. 

And to complete the climax, he adds ; 1 have kept the 
faith. Many in those days of trial and persecution aposta- 
tized, and made shipwreck of their faith. But amidst all 
the vicissitudes of battle and victory, he had preserved his 
faith like a standard, which was never to be given up but 
with hfe. He did not suppose, with some in modern times, 
that it was a matter of no consequence what a man believed, 
provided, that his life was correct ; he was anxious to pre- 
serve, in all its purity, the faith once dehvered to the saints, 
and was determined to contend for it. And to those who 
would corrupt or subvert it, he gave place by subjection, no 
not for an hour. 

He seems in this verse, to express, in a few words, his 
faithful labours in the cause of Christ, which were now 
brought to a close. He had entered on his work in earnest, 
in the days of his youth, when the powers of his mind 
were vigorous, and when he was capable of the greatest 
exertion. He had faithfully served sin and satan, but was 
now made, in a miraculous manner, a subject of divine 
grace, and was immediately called of God to the important 
work of the Christian ministry, to preach the faith which he 
had once destroyed. 

For this employment he was, in nature, eminently quali- 
fied ; decisive, bold, energetic, and unappalled by danger. 
Grace sanctified these talents, and added meekness, hu- 
mihty, condescension, patience, and contentment in a great 
degree. He was also endowed with a rich experience ; 
he had seen much, known much, endured much, enjoyed 
much, and had sometimes been miraculously delivered. 



62 



Besides these, he possessed the gifts of inspiration, and 
the effusions of the Holy Spirit, by which he was enabled 
to work rairaeles. He was not afraid to preach the truth, 
even when all men forsook him, when his brethren de- 
serted and left him alone. 

He had a great anxiety for the churches. On him 
seemed to rest the care of them ; wnether a prisoner at 
Cesarea or Rome, or visiting his brethren, he was equally 
concerned and interested. He had been instrumental of 
estabhshing many 5 he did not build when others had laid 
the foundation, but in distant countries, where Christ was 
not known. His ministry was blessed of God in a very 
great degree, and vast multitudes were given to him as the 
seals of his ministry. With all his endowments he was 
sensible that he might plant and Apollos water, but God 
must give the increase. His labours were more abundant 
than the other apostles, and his usefulness kept pace with 
his labours. It has not been confined to- his day, but has 
come down to the present period. 

He was persecuted, as might be "expected, by a wicked 
world, and the great adversary could not look with compo- 
sure on his exertions. And, as it has often been the case 
since, he was opposed and slandered by his brethren ; the 
most painful of all his persecutions, and the least to be ex- 
pected. 

But nothing could shake him in his course : he marched 
like a champion in the midst of his enemies, and continued 
his labours, notwithstanding all opposition. He knew where 
to look for support ; he knew how divine aid was to be ob- 
tained, and found his strength equal to his day. 

He was conscious that he was -indebted wholly to divine 
grace for what he was, and for what he was enabled to do. 
So far was he from boasting of his goodness, that he de- 
clares, I am the chief of sinners ; I am less than the least 



63 

of all saints." He stood pre-eminent for all the Christian 
virtues, and could, with propriety, propose himself as an 
example, worthy of imitation by all his brethren, and ex- 
horted them to follow him, as he followed Christ. Espe- 
ciall) did he possess, in an eminent degree, that most diffi- 
cult of all virtues, self-denial. " If meat make my brother 
to offend, I will eat none while the world standeth, lest I 
make my brother to offend." He was not influenced in 
these things by selfisness, nor popular applause ; but he 
did all for the glory of God and the good of the church. - 
Indeed, his great object seemed to be to do good, and he 
was thus an imitator of Him that went about doing good, 
both to the souls and bodies of his fellow-men. 

To him, death was no terror. It often stared him in the 
face, and, indeed, seemed to be his daily companion : " We 
are killed all the day long ; we are counted as sheep for the 
slaughter." Like Moses, he had respect unto the recom- 
pense of reward ; he looked forward to the future world, 
and saw the glory that awaited him. He was confident that 
the crown would be granted to him. Not oppressed vvith 
doubts and fears, like many inefficient Christians, who some- 
times hope and often fear 5 he knew in whom be believed ; he 
had given all into his hands, and had a full assurance that 
an infinite and everlasting reward would, at last, be render- 
ed for his services. 

This he calls a " crown of righteousness." Perhaps re- 
ferring to the crown of laurels or leaves, placed on the brow 
of the victor at the games. As he might refer to the state 
of kings, to which he expected to be advanced ; as Chiist 
promised, that his apostles should sit on thrones : and that 
he would appoint for them a kingdom, as his Father had ap- 
pointed for him. 

This crown was not to be obtained by disposing of anoth- 
er ; as the case often happens among men ; it was laid up ; 



64 

and laid up for him ; and waiting for tlie time, which God 
had appointed. It would be given to him ; not through par- 
tiality, as in the case of Joseph ; nor through intrigue, as in 
the case of Jacob ; but the Lord, the righteous Judge, would 
award it to him in that day. Not as the price of merit ; but 
of bis own sovereign grace : at that great day, when the final 
destinies of man will be decided for eternity. And when all 
others, who have faithfully discharged their duty, will, by the 
same grace, be admitted to the same honor : even all those 
who love his appearance. None but the pious do desire 
his coming. This crown will not be confined to apostles 
or ministers ; but the least saint shall share the blessing. 

What a heroic soul. He stood unmoved like a rock in the 
ocean, amidst the troubles of life and the prospect of death. 
How far superior to Alexander or Cesar ; or any heroes of 
ancient or modern times ! 

" His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
And bids earth roll ; nor feels its idle whirl." 

I am now ready to be offered. He was at that time 
far advanced in hfe ; brought a second time as a prisoner 
before Nero. He did not expect merely to die, by dis- 
ease ; but to be offered as a sacrifice ; to die as a martyr 
for the truth which he preached. He expected that event 
soon. It depended on the caprice of a cruel tyrant. 
He had once been delivered from his power ; but he 
had now a pre-sentiment, that his death was near. And 
he was now ready. He had no attachments to bind him 
to the earth ; he was now standing on the brink of the 
grave. He was anxious that Timothy might be prepared to 
take his place ; he wished him to make full proof of his 
ministry. His voice addressed him as from the eternal 
world, and urged on him faithfulness. 

Soon after this epistle was written, it is said, that he was 
beheaded by Nero. Thus lived, and thus died, this holy 
apostle and ipan of God I 



65 

And while we have briefly described the labours of this 
eminent servant of Christ, in promoting the cause of reli- 
gion in the world, have not some of you thought of our aged 
and venerable father, whose feet, on the last Sabbath, stood 
in this sacred desk ; whose voice filled this house, and from 
whose lips were heard the accents of mercy, as if coming 
from the eternal world f He is now no more ! that voice 
is still ! those lips unmoved ! that heart which beat with af- 
fection and tenderness for your salvation, is now cold in 
death ! his fervent prayers are finished ! little did we antici- 
pate such an event so soon ! He has finished his course ; 
he has fought the good fight ; he has kept the faith, and has 
already received the crown of righteousness, which was laid 
up in heaven for him. 

Perhaps it would not be inconsistent or contrary to your 
wishes and feelings, to have, on this occasion, a sketch of 
this eminently good man. Dr. Baldwin was born in Boz- 
rah, in Connecticut, in 1753, and in early hfe removed to 
Canaan, in New Hampshire. In youth he was a subject 
of divine grace, and gave up his heart to God, and became 
a member of a Baptist church. He had previously com- 
menced the study of the law ; but his mind was impressed 
that it was his duty to enter the ministry. He was ordain- 
ed and settled in Canaan as the minister of the town, where 
he labored faithfully for seven years. In this newly settled 
country, his salary was small. The whole sum received in 
money was twenty cents ; and the whole amount of salary 
for the seven years, besides the ministerial lands, was about 
forty-five pounds. He supported himself by his industry. 
But when he found his family increasing, he thought that 
it was his duty to remove. His people were affectionate 
and kind ; but knowing his circumstances, and being unable 
to support him, though they regretted the loss, they could 
not blame him. 

9 



He visited Boston in 1790, and became the pastor of the 
Second Baptist Church. Their house was very small and 
their funds low. Their first engagement with him was six 
dollars a week, about ^300 a year. The church also was 
small, and his prospects not very flattering. 

A reformation soon commenced under his labors, and a 
considerable number were converted, and given him as the 
seals of his ministry. The house Was filled, and twice en- 
larged, and the congregation increased till it was deemed 
necessary to erect a building 80 feet in length, and 72 in 
width. 

In 1803, another reformation commenced, and about two 
hundred were added to the church, which made the whole 
number about four hundred. During this period, many 
churches in that region were formed, and received a part 
of their number from this church, yet it was gradually in- 
creasing, and its present number is nearly five hundred. 

From this church was also raised up a large number of 
ministers ; two of which, were missionaries to Burmah. 
His labors in this place continued thirty-five years, and his 
whole ministry was forty-two years. He was, at his death, 
the oldest clergyman in Boston. 

His natural talents were of the first class ; strong memo- 
ry, correct judgment ; not so brilliant as they were sohd. 
Though his advantages of education, in early fife, were not 
great, yet his attainments were very respectable. His con- 
troversial writings are an evidence of a sound mind, deep 
thought, and a thorough acquaintance with the Bible. It 
will be recollected, that his opponents were among the most 
able men of their day ; and all acknowledge his ability, his 
candor, and Christian temper. " They have had the effect 
to convince some able and learned men, who are now filling 
stations the most useful, most arduous, and most important. 



67 

He never professed to be a poet ; but he has composed 
many excellent hymns, for the edification of the church. 
Many will remember — 

" From whence doth this union arise, 
That hatred is conquered by love." 

His preaching was always acceptable ; his feelings natur- 
ally warm and affectionate ; he seemed to enter into the 
subject with all his heart ; and his eloquence was simple and 
natural. It was almost impossible to hear, without imbibing 
some of his feelings, and some of the fervor of his soul. He 
ever felt his entire dependence on the influences of the spir- 
it of God, in the great work of preaching the gospel. He 
sometimes wrote his sermons; but generally, having reflect- 
ed on the subject, delivered his discourses extempore. He 
never affected to be learned, either in the style of composi- 
tion, or the terms employed ; but adapted his communications 
to the capacity of all. His great object seemed to be use- 
fulness ; that he might be profitable to his hearers ; and he 
endeavored to convince, and affect their hearts. 

He enjoyed in a great degree the affections of his church 
and congregation, which never sensibly diminished. His 
manners were affable and mild ; remarkably meek and 
peaceable ; and perhaps never was known on any occasion 
to be angry. 

His labours as a minister of Christ were abundant. Like 
the great apostle, he preached the gospel in all the regions 
round about. The whole number which he baptized in Bos- 
ton and other places, is 788. The .number of marriages 
which he solemnized, in that city, is 2661. In these duties, 
as w^ell as in visiting the sick, administering consolation to 
the afflicted ; attending funerals and other pastoral duties, he 
was probably exceeded by none. 

His afflictions and trials, he bore with much patience ; 
never a murmur or a spirit of impatience or discontent. He 



6B 

was a kind husband, and indulgent father, and a s;ood friend j 
in these respects, he had, probably no superior. He was 
remarkably charitable. The cause of benevolence never 
sought his aid in vain ; though his means were never abun- 
dant. 

Though naturally reserved, yet he was hvely and cheer- 
ful ; entertaining, and beloved by all who knew him. He 
was deservedly respected as a father of the Baptist church- 
es ; he had their good at heart, and labored constantly for 
their welfare. 

He was extensively known in every part of the United 
States ; and respected as a man of talents, learning, and 
piety. And as much as any one, his fame had reached Eu- 
rope, Asia and Africa ; as the friend of missions, and the 
benefactor of man. 

He had been for many years the editor of the Baptist 
Magazine, which through his exertions, in a great measure, 
rose to its present state. This has contributed in no small 
degree to piomote the interests of religion and to increase 
the respectability of the denomination. Over these interests 
he continually watched, and contributed as much as any in- 
dividual to their advancement. 

He was ever the friend and patron of learning, and literary 
institutions. For many years he was a Trustee and Fellow 
of Brown University ; and from the first, a zealous and steady 
friend of Waterville College ; and contributed to increase 
its funds. He was extremely anxious to raise the literary 
quahfications of the ministry. He had no jealousy, that he 
should be outdone by them ; but pleased, that the youthful 
ministry should far exceed their predecessors : wilHng that 
the '^ throne of Solomon should be greater than the throne of 
his father David." 

Three years ago, he visited the Institution in Waterville ; 
and in this house preached the gospel : His three sermons 



69 

will not be soon forgotten. He was much interested in all 
our concerns ; and very much pleased, that we had succeed- 
ed in erecting an edifice so good, and convenient for the 
worship of God. He sympathized with us in all our misfor- 
tunes ; and again rejoiced in our prosperity, especially in the 
reformation. 

He felt a strong desire to visit once more this Eastern re- 
gion and attend the public services at Waterville. His 
health had long been feeble; and some of his friends thought 
that the journey would be imprudent ; but his physician ad- 
vised it. He left Boston on Tuesday, Aug. 23, 1825, and 
arrived here, Wednesday : his health seemed to be im- 
proved by the voyage. This visit he seemed to enjoy in a 
great degiee. His conversation was edifying ; and general- 
ly of a rehgious cast ; and often, upon the necessity of a 
preparation for another and a better world. 

He seemed to be aware, that his faculties had failed, as 
well as the strength of his body ; and by this, he was ad- 
monished of his dissolution. He had often expressed a 
wish that he might not outlive his usefulness. He frequent- 
ly spoke of death as being near ; " the hour of his depar- 
ture was at hand." 

The last Sabbath on earth he spent whh us : we ought to 
esteem it a great privilege, that we have been thus honored 
of God. His church and congregation would have consid- 
ered it a rich blessing, to have heard his last prayers, and 
his last sermon. We seem like Elisha, to have followed the 
holy man from place to place, and heard his last remarks, 
before he ascended to heaven. It seemed, as if there was 
a pre-sentiment of hi,s death ; that he stood on the brink of 
the grave ; and his voice from the eternal world. In the 
close of his last sermon, he was peculiarly animated ; and 
hoped to see this assembly on the high hills of salvation. 
Would to God, that this was the spirit of prophecy : that it 



70 

might be literally accomplished ; that we all might see him 
with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the mansions of blessed- 
ness above. Would to God that those who were unaffected 
and unconvinced by his affectionate discourses, might be 
impressed by his death ; that his exit might be the most 
successful sermon ; that it might be a voice from the eter- 
nal world ; a voice that would not be heard in vain. That 
like the champion of Israel, he might slay more by his death, 
than he had slain in his life ; God grant that this may be the 
case with us. 

The last night which he spent on earth, he slept in our 
habitation, and there offered the last morning family prayer ; 
fervent and pious. He arrived at Waterville about noon 
in good health and spirits. He spent the evening in con- 
versing on religious subjects. The sudden death of a cler- 
gyman in this State was mentioned ; and he related a simi- 
lar case that occurred at the westward. 

He prayed with the family, and his mind seemed to rest 
on the shortness of Hfe, and repeated the idea in several 
different w^ays. He returned to rest at half past nine, 
and complained of a slight pain in his left breast, which 
continued only for a few minutes. He soon fell asleep, 
and appeared to enjoy quiet rest till nearly half past eleven, 
when he awoke and turned over. Mrs. B. as was her usual 
custom, asked him how he felt ; and he rephed. Oh, 1 
don't know, with a slight groan — and expired ! She imme- 
diately called for assistance, which was afforded in a mo- 
ment, but he was gone. His complaint was probably an 
affection of the heart. After he departed, his countenance 
indicated a sweet sleep. It seemed as if he had died with 
a smile ; and it was sometime before his friends could rea- 
lize that it was death. He seemed not to die, but hke 
Enoch, " having walked with God, he was not, for God 
took him." He had, indeed, fought the good fight, he has 



71 

now finished his course ; he had kept the faith, and has now 
received the crown. He is now on the high hills of salva- 
tion, where he earnestly desired to see this assembly ; and 
each of us, with the same crown of glory. 

To me, this providence of God is deeply affecting. In 
my childhood I attended his preaching, and repeated to him 
the Catechism. In my youth he led me down the banks of 
Jordan ; and from his Hps, as my spiritual father, I received 
rehgious instruction. From his hand, I received my Hcense 
to preach the gospel ; and when ordained, he delivered the 
sermon, and set me apart to the work of the ministry. His 
death is to me a solemn admonition to be also ready ; to be 
faithful, that, like him, I may finish my course with joy. 

With his afflicted widow and only child, we can sympa- 
thize ; they need our prayers ; their affliction is great. 
What a loss to his flock ! hardly can they expect to have 
their loss made up. It seems to be almost irreparable. 
Tbey are, no doubt, at this moment in great distress. Hap- 
py, if his death should be the means of converting those 
who sat unmoved with his preaching. 

It is a solemn admonition to this church; be ye also 
ready : let your loins be girt about, and your lamps trim- 
med and burning. Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do 
it with all thy might ; the night cometh in which none can 
work ; that night is at hand. We may be called equally 
sudden. How is our hope ? how is our hfe ? how is our 
daily walk before the world. If we are not prepared by 
grace for the heavenly world, what a solemn admonition to 
seek for that preparation which is necessary. What if one 
of us should be called away, in a moment, without time 
to pray : " God be merciful to me a sinner ;" how awful our 
case. He, like Abel, being dead, yet speaketh. " Hark 
from the tombs a doleful sound." It may be the last ad- 
monition granted. He warned us faithfully ; he invited us 



72 

affectionately, and urged us, by the most powerful motives, 
to attend to this great and important concern. 

We shall meet him at the judgment seat of Christ ; his 
faithful warnings will meet us there ; and we must there an- 
swer for the effect which has been produced. 

If impenitent, he will be a swift witness against us : his 
very death will testify that we would not hear, would not 
repent. We shall see him with his crown of glory, as one 
that has turned many to righteousness ; and who will shine 
as the stars forever and ever. And shall we participate, or 
shall we merely behold, and be excluded from heaven and 
eternal happiness ; from the society of saints and angels ? 
One of these two cases will be ours ; and a few days may 
decide the point, and fix our destiny beyond all hope. 
Delays in this case are dangerous indeed. God is now 
waiting 5 but he may wait no longer. " Boast not thyself 
of to-morrow ; for thou knowest not what a day may bring 
forth." God is now calling from heaven, by the death of 
his aged servant. See that you refuse not him that speak- 
eth from heaven. It may be the last tima : " Prepare to 
meet thy God, O Israel." 



APPENDIX. 



Doctor Baldwin was always desirous to promote the welfare of 
his people. He commenced three or four years since, a series of let- 
ters to the young people of his charge ; but owing to the multiplicity 
of his engagements, he had written but one. Should this fall into the 
hands of any of them, they will perceive, that though dead he yet 
speaketh. 

PASTORAL LETTER. 

The serious advice of an aged Pastor, to the young people of his charge. 

Dear Childre>', 

The tender solicitu.^.e which parents feel for their offspring, witf in- 
duce them to do or suifer almost any thing to promote their happiness. 
But in too many instances, this solicitude extends only to objects 
connected with their temporal prosperity. A pious parent, however, 
will feel a much greater solicitude for the spiritual welfare of his chil- 
dren, than for their temporal happiness. A faithful and affectionate 
Pastor feels an anxiety for the prosperity of the young peoole of his 
charge, similar tD that of an affectionate father for his children. 

He takes a lively interest in whatever concerns their welfare, and 
like a faithful friend, he participates in their sorrows and joys. But as a 
chribtian minister, he can have no greater joy than to see his " children 
walking in the truth." 

In discharging the impoi v^ant duties of a Pastor, I have for many 
years had the happiness of addressing publicly a large number of young 
people : many of whcm have, from time to time, been hopefully brought 
to the knowledge of the truth. In addition to the numerous opportu- 
nities of imparting public instruction, a goodly number have given me 
pleasure of conversing with them in a more intimate manner on the 
great concerns of their souls. There are many others, however, who 
attend on my ministry, with whom I have no personal acquaintance ; 
but being desirous, if possible, " to present every man perfect in 
Christ," I cannot satisfy myself without making some further efforts 
to bring them to the knov/ledge of salvation. 

With a view to this important object, I have thought it might be 
useful to address them in a series of letters ; in which it is proposed 
to exhibit, in a plain and intelligible manner, the principal doctrines 

10 



2 APPENDIX. 

and duties of the Christian religion: to point out some of the most dan- 
gerous errours to which young people are more especially exposed ; 
and also suggest such general rules of conduct as may tend to preserve 
them from their fatal inflaence. 

My reasons for addressing the young people of my charge rather 
than others, are by no means founded on a disregard to the interests of 
those in more advanced life ; but the special encouragement given in 
the word of God, as well as the experience of past ages, unitedly sug-* 
gest the obvious propriety of the measure. 

A large and interesting part of almost every religious society, is 
made up of young people. These consequently claim a large share of 
parental and pastoral attention. If in early life, they are led to imbibe 
just principles, and form correct moral habits, their future usefulness 
and respectability may be hoped for on the most rational ground. On 
the other hand, if they are suffered to grow up in ignorance and impie- 
ty, they wUl become vicious in their habits, and dissolute in their man- 
ners ; and thus instead of being blessings to their parents, they will 
pierce their hearts with many sorrows. 

The state of society must be deplorably wretched, where the educa- 
tion of children is neglected. We may as well expect to gather grapes 
of thorns, or figs of thistles, as to find correct moral habits and amiable 
manners where religious instruction is withheld. 

It is not the design of these letters to point out the different modes 
of instruction, which might be successfully pursued ; but to impar^ 
some general principles which are essential to form a virtuous and 
amiable character. 

In espousinsf your cause, my respected young Friends, I confess I 
feel an ardour bordering on enthusiasm. " But if I am beside myself, 
it is for your sakes." When I consider the value of your immortal 
souls, the immense price which has been paid for their redemption ; I 
tremble at the thought of your remaining impenitent, and am induced 
to make this feeble effort hoping it may be blessed to your everlasting 
good. 

Need I apologize for thus addressing you ? Surely not. I will still 
presume that you will seriously listen while " age speaks," and one 
who has had years of experience attempts to teach you wisdom. 
*' Come then ye children, hearken unto me, I will teach you the fear of 
the Lord." " If you desire life, and to live many days that you may 
see good, keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking 
guile." " Depart from evil, and do good, seek peace and pursue it." 

As your circumstances in life have been somewhat different, your 
opportunities for improvement must have been equally so. You can 
be blameable only for not improving such means as have been in your 



APPENDIX. 3 

power. You cannot all be rich, but you may through grace, all be good. 
You cannot all fill the same rank in society, but yoa may all be virtuous. 
You will not be accountable for talents which you never possessed, but 
for the improvement of those with which God has intrusted you. You 
must remember,however,that your virtuous and vicious habits depend on 
your own choice. No one will ever be rewarded for the good which 
he may have done without designing it ; nor will be punished for the 
evil which he never intended. 

While multitudes of christians are engaged in sending the gospel 
to the poor benighted heathen, is it not affecting to perceive the as- 
tonishing ignorance of many young persons who have been brought 
up in this land of Bibles, with respect to the plainest and most impor- 
tant truths of revealed religion. 

Much of this ignorance in children, is undoubtedly to be attributed 
to the neglect of parents and others, who have the care of their educa- 
cation ; but probably much more to their own heedlessness and inatten- 
tion ; or what is worse, to their criminal aversion to the holy nature of the 
gospel. If, my young friends, you have ever reflected on this subject, 
or have any acquaintance with your own hearts, you must be sensible 
of a strong propensity to sinful objects ; particularly to the unhallowed 
pleasures and vanities of the world ; and of an aversion equally strong 
to the serious and devout exercises of the christian life. This propen- 
sity, in a thousand instances, has carried you against all the remon- 
strances of reason and conscience into the commission of known of- 
fences against God. You also know what painful reflections, what 
shame and remorse, these criminal indulgencies at first occasioned. 
But by repeating them often, have you not found the reproaches of 
conscience less severe ? and the way to sinful indulgence growing 
daily more plain and easy ? If this indeed be your case, be assured it 
is most dangerous. It indicates an awful insensibility and hardness of 
heart, which alone can account for such fatal apathy. This temper, 
cherished and persisted in, will terminate in your final and everlasting 
ruin. 

What apology, my young friends, have you to offer for neglecting 
the great salvation ? Can the transitory enjoyments of the mean and 
sordid pleasures of sense, compensate for the loss of an eternity of real 
happiness ? Earth's highest pleasures can never satisfy an immortal 
mind. Nor will these pleasures always last. They all perish in the 
using. Think then, I beseech you, what your condition will be, when 
these, poor as they are, shall all forsake you forever. Where will you 
then look for consolation? Will a recollection of your past indulgen- 
ces, for the sake of which you neglected the great salvation, yield you 



4 APPENDIX. 

any pleasure ? O, no i the very thought will overwhelm you with con- 
fusion. Will you think of taking refuge in religion, because earthly 
comforts can no longer sustain you ? Like Joab will you now lay hold of 
the horns of that altar at which you never before bowed ? As you have 
despised and neglected religion, when its aid was kindly offered, will 
it not now abandon you ? Will you not stand confounded when your 
Judge shall address you saying, " Because I have called and ye refus- 
ed ; I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded, but ye have 
set at nought all my counsel and would none of my reproof ; I also 
will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh !" 

Does not such criminal inattention to the all important concerns of 
eternity, argue some latent source of depravity in the heart ? Some 
native and powerful aversion to that which is good ? Can it be ration- 
ally accounted for upon any other principle ? To this corrupt fountain 
all the impure streams are to be traced. It is this which disqualifies 
the soul for the service and enjoyment of God. It is this which dead- 
ens all the sensibilities of the soul, and renders it easy in sin. Let me 
beseech you, my dear young friends, to embrace the Saviour, before the 
door of mercy is forever shut. Listen, ( ) Listen to this exhortation ; 
it may be the last which I may have opportunity to give, or some of 
you to hear. Should I be spared to address you again, I propose in 
my next to enter upon the nature and effects of depravity. 

Affectionately Your's for Christ's sake, T. B. 

Solemn is the thought that he was not spared to complete this series 
of letters ; nor to make any addition to this introduction. It is there- 
fore to the youth, a voice from the grave ; from the world of spirits : it 
ie the voice of God addressing them, and urging on them in the most 
serious manner, the everlasting concerns of their souls. 



Extracts of letters to Dr. Gano, of Providence, R. I. 

My Dear Brother, ^pril 4, 1825. 

I rejoice to hear that your health is improving. I hope the Lord has 
much service for you yet to perform, and that 3rour latter end may 
be more blessed than your beginning. _ 

But this much we know, that as we have stepped forward into old 
age, v/e can never retrograde, so as to become young again. It would 
be highly improper to repine at this circumstance. To act our part 
well on the stage of life, and approve ourselves to God, must be ouV 



APPENDIX. 5 

highest aim. The Lord make us faithful unto death, ami we are as- 
sured he will give us a crown of life. 

The ill turns that we liave so often experienced, sliould remind us, 
that we are mortal, and tliat our earthly house must shortly be dis- 
solved. But may we not say with some degree of comfort, we have a 
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. The Lord pre- 
pare us to meet there, to part no more. 

This will be handed you by our valued friend, IN^^r. Boardman. You 
will be pleased with him, I am sure. He appears to possess a large 
share of the missionary spirit, and I think will do honour to the cause 
of missions. I have no doubt but you will show him every facility in 
your power, to aid in the good work in which he is engaged. You 
will find him respectable both as a scholar and as a preacher. 
I remain, with unabated affection. 

Your old friend and brother in Christ. 

T. B. 
Rev. Dr. Gano. 



June 25, 1825. 
Mr Dear sympathizing Brother, 

Last evening I received your very affectionate letter, and although 
I did not in the least doubt of your sympathetic condolence, yet the 
tender manner in which you were led to communicate your feelings 
was peculiarly consoling. In afflictions, as in all other things, we 
learn but by experience. In approaching the furnace which you men- 
tion, we often have our fears alarmed, but in it, we as often find one 
with us, whose ybr?7i is like the Son of God ! 

The scene through which I have been called to pass of late, has 
been uncommonly trying. In a letter which I conclude you had not 
Teceived when you wrote last, as you did not mention it, I believe I 
gave you some account of the illness of my son. But I have been so 
confused that I can scarcely tell what I wrote. 

On Wednesday the 5th of June was the first of our knowing him to 
be unwell. At evening we sent for a physician. His complaint was 
supposed to be a rupture of the bowels. On Thursday further attempts 
were made by putting him into a hot bath, and applying ice to the part 
affected at the same time, but all in vain. These and other attempts 
v/ere repeated without success until Friday night, when it v/as con- 
cluded that nothing more could be done but an operation of the knife 
He consented. On Saturday eight physicians assembled, and at 11 
o'clock commenced their dreadful operation, which was not completed 
vmlil half past3. For nearly two hours, I expected momently to be 



6 APPENDIX. 

informed that he had died in the operation ; or, that they had given 
him up to die, without any prospect of helping him. But with much 
difficulty they succeeded at last. 

After the wound was dressed, he appeared as comfortable as could 
be expected. He continued so until Thursday night. On Friday 
morning I perceived symptoms of the fatal disorder which terminated 
his life. My hopes all seemed to wither away. The spasms of the 
jaw appeared some time before they became universal. But they con- 
tinued to increase until nature could no longer resist, and Saturday, at 
half past 6 o'clock, P. M. he expired. 

But there is another inquiry, I know my good brother is anxious to 
make. " How was the state of his mind ?" I had not the least gleam 
of hope for him until about an hour and a half before he died. But 
glory to God, I have reason to hope, that like the repenting thief, he 
was brought to be a true penitent, and to embrace the mercy of God, as 
proclaimed in the gospel. He appeared calm and resigned ; he beg- 
ged me not to mourn, for he said he could trust his soul in the hands 
of that God who is able to do all things for him. A tender mother and 
sisters agonizing in another chamber ! Good God ! what a scene ! I 
stood by him until he expired, and tried to compose my weeping family. 
Mrs. B. still remains unwell, but I hope she is mending. On Monday 
the dear remains were committed to the tomb. My friends have 
given me abundant proof of their love on this trying occasion. Thus 
you see I have mercies mingled mith my afflictions. Buring this un- 
commonly trying scene, if I have not been deceived, though I have 
felt all the Father, yet I hope I have felt something of the Christian 
temper. Do pray for me ,and for my dear family, that it may be 
sanctified to them. O, how it would sweeten this bitter cup, if it 
might produce the same happy effects in my family, as a similar event 
did in yours. But all will be of no avail without divine influence. 

I tried to preach last Lord's day afternoon from 2 Samuel, xii. 23: 
But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast, can I bring him back again ; 
J shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. Our meeting-house was 
thronged like our evening lectures, in time of the revival ; and hun- 
dreds went away for want of room. I had, indeed, a very solemn, weep- 
ing audience, but I fear the impressions were rather from the occasion, 
and from the tone of my feelings, than from any thing special in the 
discourse. 

But the bottom of my paper admonishes me to close. With fervent 
wishes that you and your dear family may be safe from death for many 
years to come, as those where the Paschal blood was sprinkled. 

I subscribe your brother in tribulation. 

Dr. (?. T. B. 



APPENDIX. 

HYMNS COMPOSED BY DR. BALDWIN. 

THE UNION. 

From whence doth this union arise, 
That hatred is conquer'd by love ; 
That fastens our souls in such ties, 
As nature and time can't remove. 

It cannot in Eden be found, 
Nor yet in a paradise lost ; 
It grows on Immanuel's ground, 
And Jesus' rich blood it did cost. 

My friends who so dear are to me, 
Our hearts all united in love ; 
Where Jesus is gone we shall be, 
In yonder blest mansions above. 

O why then so loath for to part ; 
Since we shall ere long meet again ? 
Engrav'd on Immanuel's heart, 
At distance we cannot remain. 

Though call'd to resign up this breath, 
And quit these frail bodies of clay ; 
When freed from corruption and death, 
We'll unite in the regions of day. 

With Jesus we ever shall reign, 
And all his bright glories shall see ; 
We'll sing Alleluia, Amen. 
Amen, even so let it be. 



The year of the Redeemed. 
Cotne, welcome this new year of grace, 

Pro<tlaim'd through Jesua' blood ; 
The hanpy year of our release, 

To 9eil our peace with God. 

We early v^ander'd from our God, 

In tuo dark maze of sin ; 
The yea r of the redeem'd is come, 

To bring us back again. 



APPENDIX. 

We once could spurn at ofFer'd grace. 
And slight a Saviour's charms ; 

The year of the redeem'd is come, 
To call us to his arms. 

We hear the gospel's joyful sound, 

Proclaim the jubilee ; 
The year of the redeem'd is come, 

To set the ransom'd free. 

Ye aged saints, who long have sigh'd 

To see this happy day ; 
The year of the redeem'd is come, 

To wipe your tears away. 

Ye lovely youth, who late have known 
The sweets of pard'ning grace. 

The year of the redeem'd demands 
Your nohlest acts of praise. 



I/ife eternal to know the only true God. 

'Tis first of all thyself to knoiv, 

To feel the plague of sin, 
Expos'd to everlasting wo, 

And nothing good within. 

To know thy wretched, sinful state, 

Averse to all that's good ; 
To feel thy guilt exceeding great. 

Thy heart oppos'd to God. 

To know thy law-condemned sase, 
And own thy sentence just ; 

Thy heart subdu'd by sovereign grace, 
And humbled in the dust. 

To know the pangs of pious grief, 
For sins against the Lord ; 

To know that nought can give relief 
But trustiilff in his word. 



APPENDIX, 

To know that thou art born of God, 
Thy num'rous sins forgiv'n, 

Thy soul redeem'd by Jesus* blood, 
And thou an heir of heav'n. 

Yet, after all, can it be so, 

That I may be deceiv'd ? 
This cannot be — for sure " I know, 

" In whom I have believ'd." 

Dear Saviour, cause thy love to flow ; 

Thy love my soul revives : 
In darkest hours give me to know, 

That my Redeemer lives. 

Then will I wait thy high command, 
To yield my flesh to dust ; 

And to my Saviour's faithful hand., 
My ^aked soul will trust. 



Conie, see the place where the Lord lay. 
Come happy souls, adore the Lamb, 
Who lov'd our race ere time began ; 
Who veil'd his (jodhead in our clay, 
And in an humble manger lay. 

To Jordan's streams the Spirit led. 
To mark the path his saints should tr^ad ; 
Joyful they trace the sacred way, 
To see the place where Jesus lay. 

Immers'd by John in Jordan's wave. 
The Saviour left his wat'ry grave : 
Heaven own'd the deed, approv'd the way^ 
And bless'd the place where Jesus lay. 

Come, all who love his precious name ; 
Come, tread his steps and learn of him; 
Happy beyond expression they 
Who find the place where Jes^ts lay, 

U 



10 APPENDIX. 



At the water side. 



Almighty Saviour, here we stand, 

Rang'd by the water side j 
Hither we came, at thy command, 

To wait upon thy bride. 

Thy footsteps mark'd this humble way. 

For all that love thy cause ; 
Lord, thy example we obey, 

And glory in the cross. 

Our dearest Lord, we'll follow theo, 

Where'er thou lead'st the way ; 
Thro' floods, thro' flames, thro' death's dark vale, 

To realms of endless day. 



THE PARTING SCENE. 

Lines ivritten on the sailing of Messrs, WTieelock and Colmanfor Indiq^ 

from Boston, JVbv. 16, 1817. 

See that ship, her saUs now bending, 
Destin'd far to Indian seas ; 
See her canvass, wide extending, 
Catch the ling'ring wish'd for breeze ; 
Richly freighted 
With Ambassadors of peace. 

See the solemn crowd assemblings 
Anxious each the scene to view ; 
Some are weeping, others trembling, 
While a mother* presses through. 
And with anguish 
Bids her only son adieu. 

See a father'sf heart dissolving. 
While he gazes on his son ; 
Ev'ry tender thought revolving, 
Turns away and weeps alone ; 
Softly saying, 
« Father let thy will he doneJ*^ 

See a scene no less distressing, 
When a mother's} anguish'd heart, 

-^ Mrs. Colman, f Mr. Wheelock. i Mrs, Wheelock. 



APPENDIX. U 

Fondly to her bosom pressing, 
Cries, " my son ! and must we part ? 
O my Saviour ! 
Ever keep him near thy heart." 

See that youth || with arms entwining, 
Hanging on her brother's breast , 
Tears, and grief, and love combining. 
Still she cries, though much distressed, 
" Go, my brother ! 
Go ! and make the Burman's blest." 

Sisters§ too, with fond embraces. 
Stand o'erwhelm'd upon the shore ; 
Gazing on each others faces, 
Weeping, part to meet no more ! 

Griev'd and pensive, 
God's mysterious ways adore. 

While the crowd were silent standing, 
Solemn prayer devoutly flow'd ; 
Clouds of incense like, ascending 
Up before the throne of God, 

For our brethren, 
While they're sailing o'er the flood. 

Go, ye heralds of salvation. 
Go proclaim " redeeming blood ;" 
Publish to that barb'rous nation. 
Peace and pardon from our God : 

Tell the Heathens 
None but Christ can do them good. 

While the gospel trump you're sounding, 
. May the Spirit seal the word ; 
And thro' sov'reign grace abounding, 
BuRMANS bow and own the Lord ; 

Guadma^ leaving, 
God alone shall be ador'd. 

Distant tho' our souls are bending, 
Still our hearts are warm and true ; 
In our prayers to heav'n ascending, 

II Miss Wheelock. § Sisters of the Missionaries' wives. 
H The name of the Burman idol. 



1^ APPENDIX. 

13rethren, we'll remember you : 

Heav'n preserve you: 
Safely all your journey through. 

When your mission here is finish'd, 
A^your work on earth is done ; 
May your souls, by grace replenishM, 
Find i^fe^ptance through the Son, 
V '- ^ . Thence admitted, 
Dwel]i:fore,#r near his throne. 

Loud hosannas i^ow resounding, ' 
Make the heav'n! v arches ring ; 
Grace to sinful men abounding, 
Ransom'd millions sweetly sing, 

While with rapture. 
All adore their heav'nly King. 



Errata. — In page 3, 1st line from top, after haSy read it. 20th 
page, 15th line from top, for wiliest read callest. 25th page, 3d line 
from top, after than, omit man. 29th page, 7th line from tog, after 
€ould, omit 07ily. 63d page 7th line from bottom, for *3s, read Or. 61st 
page, 5th line from the top, for person, read power. 63d page, 2d line 
from the bottom, for disposing of, read dispossessing, 5th page of Ap- 
pendix, in the date of the letter ; for 1825, read 1805. 



/5^ 



